ANN 



ANN 



COMEDY IN THREE ACTS 



By 



LECHMERE WORRALL 



Copyright, 191.^, by Samuel French, Ltd. 



NEW YORK 

SAMUEL FRENCH 

Publisher 
28-31) WEST 38th STREET 



LONDON 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 

26 Southampton Street 

STRAND 






©CI.D 33230 



TO 

E. W. 



ANN 

Produced on June i8, 1912, at the Critehpn Theatre, 
London, by Sir Charles Wyndham and Miss Mary Moore, 
and afterwards transferred to the Court Theatre, London, 
with the following cast : — 

The Very Rev. Samuel Hargraves 

(Dean of Milchester) . . . Mr. Holman Clark. 

Edward Hargraves (his Son). . Mr. Basil Hatlam. 

" Billy " (William Lloyd) . . Mr. Hyltan Alien. 

Mrs. Hargraves .... Miss Fay Davies. 

Evangeline Lipscomb . . . Miss Jean Cadeil. 

Ann Anning (an American newspaper 

reporter) . . . . .Miss Re nee Kelty. 

Scene.— Edward Hargraves' Chambers in a Residentml 
Hotel, London, 

Act I. Night. 

Act II. The following afternoon. 

Act hi. The following evening. 



The Fee for the representation of this play by Ama- 
teurs is Five Guineas, payable in advance to : — 

MESSRS. SAMUEL FRENCH, LTD., 

26, Southampton Street, 

Strand, London, 

or their authorized agents, who will issue a written 
permission for the performance to take place. No 
representation may be given unless this written 
authority has first been obtained. 

In the event of more than one performance being 
given, the fee for the second representation is Four 
Guineas, and for the third and further representa- 
tions, Three Guineas! But this reduction only applies 
when the performances are consecutive (evening 
following evening, or evening following matinee) 
and at the same theatre or hall. 

All costumes, wigs and properties used in the 
performance of plays contained in French's Acting 
Edition may be hired or purchased reasonably from 
Messrs. Charles H. Fox, Ltd., 27, Wellington 
Street, Strand, London. 



ANN 

ACT I 

Scene. — Represents a very comfortable bachelor sitting- 
room in a Residential Hotel in London. A long 
bookcase filled with books in a very orderly manner 
R. A bust af Dante occupies a conspicuous position 
on the top of the bookcase. Door down R. leads to 
the staircase. Another door up l. leads into bedroom. 
Large recessed casement window, with window seat, 
at back R., opening on to balcony. Another large 
recessed casement window at back L. [also open.) 
Between the windows c. is a huge writing-desk with 
pedestal telephone, w'riting materials, photos, in 
frames, of Dean and Mrs. Hargraves. Electric 
reading lamp [lighted). Golf sticks close to table. 
Fireplace L. with carved overmantel. On mantel : 
Clock, ornaments and photograph , in frame, of Evange- 
line. Large Chesterfield settee down l. Armchairs 
c. and R. Club fender. Occasional tables, chairs, a 
quantity of ornaments, pipes, and all the parapher- 
nalia of a young bachelor's den. Electric standard 
lamp just above L. end of settee [lighted). Fireplace 
down L. Fire lighted. 

[At rise of curtain, Mrs. Hargraves is discovered 
seated in an armchair c. darning her son's socks. 
The Dean is asleep on the -settee. Edward is 
sitting on the fender with his back to the fire. Billy 
is seated r. doing a black and white sketch of the 
Dean.) 

Mrs. Hargraves. My dear boy, where do you buy 
your socks ? 



10 ANN. 

Edward. Oh, just anywhere, mater. I wish you 
wouldn't bother darning them. 

Billy. I always throw mine away, Mrs. Har- 
graves. 

Mrs. Hargraves. I should imagine you would, 
Billy. 

{The Dean snores loudly. All look at him.) 

It's positively disgraceful ! 

Billy (drawing rapidly). If I could only suggest 
that snore ! 

Mrs. Hargraves. Personally, I feel it's quite 
suggestive enough. 

Edward [laughing). Billy, the black-and-white 
artist — suggesting a snore ! 

[Telephone hell rings.) 

(Going to 'phone.) Oh, bother ! 

Billy. There she is again ! Poor old Edward f 

Mrs. Hargraves. Who is it ? 

Billy. An American interviewer, Mrs. Har- 
graves ; awfully keen on Edward. 

Y^BWARD [taking up receiver). Yes? . . . No, I'm 
busy ! I can't — tell her I won't be interviewed, . . , 
No, I won't ! [Puts receiver up.) That's the sixth 
time she's rung me up. [Comes down c.) 

Mrs. Hargraves. I think it's very foolish not to 
see her. 

Billy. Poor old novelist — such is fame. 

Edward (c). I do loathe the idea oi being inter- 
viewed ; it's so American. 

Billy. I wonder if it's that New York critic who 
praised your philosophy and roasted you so badly 
about your women ? 

Mrs. Hargraves. You never sent me that one, 
Edward. What did it say about your women ? 

Billy. Go ahead, Teddy; trot it out. 

Edward [reluctantly). It will keep. 



ANN. U 

Mrs. Hargraves. My dear boy, it won't. 

Billy. It's sour enough already. 

Mrs. Hargraves. I like to hear both good and 
bad. 

Edward {goes up to desk c). It isn't that I mind a 
slating ; a good literary slating is bracing ; but 

when they attack my accuracy {Coming down 

c. with press-cutting book.) 

Billy {quickly). Concerning women ! 

Mrs. Hargraves {laughs). Isn't it quite usual in' 
a first novel, and with a male novelist ? 

Edward. Yes, but — I 

Billy. My dear chap, they're perfectly right. 
You don't know anything about women. 

Edward. Thank you ! 

Billy. You're welcome ! 

Edward {finding press cutting). Listen to this, 
mater. " His masterly methods of description are 
without blame, and his characterization of men and 
women is unique, but like many of the rising genera- 
tion of novelists, he fails utterly in the handling of 
his womenfolk. Mr. Edward Hargraves knows 
nothing of women below the age of forty." 

Billy. Virtuous Edward ! 

Mrs. Hargraves {sighs). It's certainly true. 

Edward. I say, that's a bit thick, mater. 

(Dean snores.) 

Dear old dad ! 

Mrs. Hargraves. Who wrote it ? 

Edward {cross to fireplace). The same woman 
who always signs herself " Ann." She does go for 
me. Listen to this: " Mr. Hargraves' description of 
a passionate kiss passes all understanding . . ." 

Mrs. Hargraves {interrupting). Edward, you 
don't mean to tell me you never altered that kiss ? 

Edward. I suppose I didn't. {Sits on club 
fender.) 

Billy. Well, I'm only a poor black-and-white 



12 ANN. 

artist, but if I couldn't draw a kiss in ink better than 
you can draw it in words, I'd chuck up art. Per- 
haps it's the same girl who wants the interview. 

Mrs. Hargraves. " Hannah's Honeymoon " was 
dehghtful in parts. Your characterization of Old 
Farmer WiUiams, for instance, was excellent. (Sigh- 
ing.) I suppose you'll learn about women some day — 
you'll never write a successful novel if you don't. 

Edward {kissing his mother). Dear old mater ! 
[Rises and goes to stool L. of chair c.) How the girls 
would have loved you if you'd been a man. Apart 
from her slating, she's given me the most wonderful 
notice — read this. [Gives her press-cutting hook.) 

Mrs. Hargraves (reading). " Mr. Hargraves 
writes with the enthusiasm of youth. His book 
breathes the purity and fragrance of a white man 
from cover to cover. The author of " Hannah's Honey- 
moon " is just a very clever child, who has observed 
with the philosophy of age and written with the 
optimistic inexperience of youth. Mr. Hargraves 
will go a long way." 

Edward. Ha, ha ! 

Mrs. Hargraves. " But he shouldn't go alone ! " 

Billy. Wow-wow ! 

Mrs. Hargraves. That's a clever woman who 
wrote that. 

Edward. Probably some fearful blue-stocking. 

(Dean snores.) 

Billy {with a half-laugh). My hat ! 

Mrs. Hargraves (looking at cutting). "Ann!" 
I like Ann ! (Returns hook to Edward.) 

Billy. Edward appears to be pursued by Ameri- 
can's just at present. I suppose he hasn't told you 
it was an American girl he pulled out of the water at 
Henley yesterday ? 

Mrs. Hargraves. Why, my dear boy, you never 
mentioned it. 



ANN. 13 

Edward {a Utile self-consciously). Oh, it was no- 
thing, mater — only a ridiculous accident. Some girl 
trying to punt ; she and the punt parted company, 
and I went to the rescue. 

Billy (to Mrs. Hargraves). Fearfully funny, 
Mrs. Hargraves, the punt pole subsided with dear little 
Stars and Stripes hanging on to the business end of 
it and shouting " Help ! " " Help ! " Pretty girl, 
too ! 

Edward. Was she ? 

Billy {scornfully). " Was she " ? 

Edward. I didn't notice. Anyway, she over- 
whelmed me with gratitude. I wish people wouldn't 
make such a fuss about nothing. 

Billy. Oh, you're too retiring ! I wish it'd been 
my rescue ; she was a topping girl ! 

Mrs. Hargraves (to Edward). I wonder if 
Evangeline will come round to-night ? 

Edward. Oh, she'll probably think you're both 
tired after your journey. She said she might ring 
up, though. 

Mrs. Hargraves. Have you seen much of her 
since she came up to London ? 

Edward. Oh, yes. 

Billy [comes c. and showing drawing to both). 
How's that for " The Dean's Snore " ? [Leans over 
hack of Mrs. Hargraves' chair c.) 

Mrs. Hargraves [laughing). Really, it's quite a 
remarkable likeness under the circumstances. 

(Dean snores.) 

Edward. By Jove, that is a snore ! [Rises and 
goes L.) 

Mrs. Hargraves. Samuel ! [A pause — then clap- 
ping her hands together.) Samuel ! .! 

Dean {waking up). H'm — yes — what was it you 
said, my dear ? 

Mrs. Hargraves. Samuel, you've been snoring. 

Dean. My dear, I never snore ! 



14 ANN. 

Edward {laughing). Dear old dad! Anyway, 
Billy's got you in black and white. 

Dean. No! Has he ? {Fumbling for his glasses.) 
I must see 

(Billy, leaning over back of couch, shows picture to 
Dean. The Dean, who has been gently laughing, 
stops abruptly at sight of drawing.) 

'{Doubtfully.) And do I really look like that ? Re- 
markable ! 

Mrs. Margraves {to Billy). I think you ought 
to present it to him to hang up in his study. 

Dean. My dear ! 

Billy. It's yours with pleasure, sir. 

Dean. Oh, thank you ! Thank you ! I know 
you meant w^ell ! I'll have it framed. {Returning 
drawing to Billy.) 

(Billy, rather disgusted, goes round to r. and puts 
drawing on table.) 

Mrs. Hargraves. We've just been telhng Edward 
lie knows very little about women. 

Dean. Ah ! There's plenty of time. Plenty of 
lime. {Picks up newspaper and becomes interested 
in it.) 

Edward. If something doesn't happen to en- 
lighten me before I start my next novel, I warn you 
all, I shall take to politics. 

Billy. Well, it is easier ; and you get four 
hundred a year. 

Dean {to Mrs. Hargraves). If Edward w^ould 
-only be guided by us and get engaged to some nice 
girl, like 

Edward. I know — Evangeline. {Takes up photo.) 

Mrs. Hargraves. Why not, Edward ? She's 
very amiable, thoroughly domesticated, and altogether 
desirable. You've been friends since you were 
■children. 



ANN. 15 

Dean. A life companion to any man. A Ruth 
to any Boaz. 

Edward. I've told you dear people so often I'm 
not in love with Evangeline. {Puts picture on mantel- 
shelf.) 

(Mrs. Hargraves sighs.) 

Dear old mater, don't sigh. I can't help it. I've 
never met the woman yet who 

Mrs. Hargraves. Your condition is positively 
dangerous. And remember, Evangeline is the kind of 
girl who will marry and be very happy without much 
romance. 

Edward. I suppose I'm much the same. 

(The telephci'ie hell rings again. Edward looks at it 
angrily and Billy laughs.) 

Edward. Now if it's that interviewer, I'll 

{Goes to 'phone.) 

(Dean ha.':' taken up the evening paper and is reading.) 

Mrs. Hargraves. Do ask her up, Edward — you 
can't refuse. 

Edward (taking up receiver). Yes, who is it ? 
(Listens.) I'm awfully sorry but I can't. . . . You'll 
what ? (Pause — alarmed.) But, wait a minute — 

no, don't ring off. (Listens.) Well, I'm (Puts 

down receiver.) 

Billy. What's she want now ? 

Edward. Of all the cheek ! Of all the 

Mrs. Hargraves (laughing). What on earth's the 
matter ? 

Edward. She says she'll get that interview 
whether I like it or not. 

Dean (putting paper dow7i). But who is it. my dear 
boy ? 

Edward (c). Oh, some American newspaper 
woman who wants to interview me. dad ! 

Billy. What else did she say ? 



IC ANN. 

Edward. Called me a shy, self-conscious English- 
man. 

Billy. No ! 

(Mrs. Hargraves hursts out laughing.) 

Dean (taking up newspaper again). These Ameri- 
cans are a wonderful people — a truly wonderful 
people ! 

Billy. I bet you she'll get that interview ! 

Mrs. Hargraves. I hope she will ; you've no 
sense of business. 

Dean (looking at paper). Why, what's this, 
Edward, about you and an accident at Henley ? 

Billy. Ha, ha ! Serves you jolly well right. 
They've stuck it in the paper. 

Mrs. Hargraves. Read it, Samuel. 

Dean (reading impressively). " A Novelist Hero." 
" Mr. Edward Hargraves, whose first novel has been 
one of the most widely-discussed books of the year, 
yesterday rescued an American lady from an awkward 
predicament at Henley. Whilst making an amateur- 
ish attempt at punting, the lady and the punt parted 
company. As the pole sank deeper and deeper into 
the mud, her position became more and more pre- 
carious, and in a few moments she was struggling in 
the water. Mr. Hargraves, who was on a houseboat 
near by, without a moment's hesitation, jumped into 
the water and rescued our fair American" cousin 
amidst the plaudits of those who witnessed the acci- 
dent from the bank." 

Billy. " Amen ! " (Continuing.) Much to the 
secret joy of his friend, Billy Lloyd, who wasn't a bit 
heroic, but remained high and dry on the bank. 

Edward. What rot — shoving stuff like that in the 
papers. (Down l.) 

Dean. My dear boy, you did your duty manfully. 

Mrs. Hargraves. And you have no idea who the 
■ girl was ? 

Edward. None at all. 



ANN. 17 

Billy [looking at his watch). I say, Mr. Hargraves, 
I don't want to hurry you, but if we're going slum- 
ming, oughtn't we to be off ? 

Dean [rising and coming l.c). Certainly. [To 
Mrs. Hargraves.) My dear, I suppose you will go 
to bed early to-night ? 

Mrs. Hargraves. Yes, but I want to have a talk 
with Edward first. 

Dean [to Mrs. Hargraves) . God bless you — good- 
night, my dear. [To Edward.) I'll look in later 
on my way upstairs. 

[Exit Dean r.) 

Billy [to Mrs. Hargraves). I say, Mrs. Har- 
graves, if you can't persuade him to propose to 
Evangeline, try and persuade Evangeline to propose 
to me. By-bye, Teddie. 

[Exit Billy laughing r.) 

[There is a moment's pause after they are gone. Mrs. 
Hargraves darns socks energetically. Edward 
re-arranges papers on table.) 

Mrs. Hargraves. Edward, I want to have a 
heart to heart talk with you. 

Edward. Yes, dear old darling. (Si^s on stool 
at Mrs. Hargraves' feet.) 

Mrs. Hargraves. A parson's wife is pecuharly 
placed, and however much of a woman of the world 
she may be, she must not show it. 

Edward. I know. 

Mrs. Hargraves. Your father, God bless him, is 
one of the best of men, but he's narrow-minded — he 
can't help it. He's told me so — often ! 

Edward. Dear old dad ! 

Mrs. Hargraves. You, Edward, are growing like 
him, and I can't stand it. 

Edward. But 

Mrs. Hargraves. You are — you've been twenty- 



18 ANN. 

eight years in this world and you've not even begun 
to understand women. {Facing htm.) Edward, 

^yhy don't you break out — and (Rises, goes to l.) 

• Edward. And what ? 

Mrs. Hargraves. Make an effort — flirt — kiss 
somebody ! Find some really nice girl who wants 
to 

Edward. My dear old darling, what in Heaven's 
name are you driving at ? 

Mrs. Hargraves {energetically). Can't you see 
your whole success as a novel writer depends on your 
understanding women more thoroughly ? 

Edward. Women bore me, mater. {To c.) 

Mrs. Hargraves. Because you've only known the 
Cathedral Town girl. Surely, after being in London 
three years you might have — well, met some types. 

Edward. It's not easy to — well, I 

Mrs. Hargraves. My dear boy. it's just cowardice. 
You've been afraid of the sex all your life. From a 
little boy I've noticed it. li only you'd been blessed 
with sisters — and cheek. But, dear, it's time you 
made an effort. 

Edward (nervotisly). It takes up so much time, 
mater. 

Mrs. Hargraves. Nonsense ! It's never waste 
of time — never ; a woman's man can always suc- 
ceed in the world. {Crosses R.) 

Edv\^ard {sitting in armchair c). I can't flirt ; I've 
tried. Billy bullied me into it at Cambridge. I tried 
to talk to a little girl in a Restaurant he knew — she 
hated me — positively loathed me in five minutes. 

Mrs. Hargraves"^(s^.^/_v). Poor Edward. 

Edward. The last time I made a terrific effort 
with some other girls Billy knows. We took two down 
to Richmond in a boat. The most boring experience 
I've ever had — conversation was all of the gigly sort. 

Mrs. Hargraves. Were they pretty girls ? (r.) 

Edvv^ard. Yes, I suupose so ; in a way — in a 
fluffy, frilly way. 



ANN. 19 

Mrs. Hargraves. Oh, my poor dear boy ! (Goes 
up towards window r.) 

Edward. No, it's no good, mater. It can't be 
done. (Rises, goes to Mrs. Hargraves.) You're 
the only woman I really care to talk to. 

Mrs. Hargraves. Fiddlesticks ! You know, Ed- 
ward, I'm very much afraid you'll develop into a prig, 
and I can't stand it. 

Edward. Very sorry, darling ; then I suppose I'll 
have to. (Comes sloivlv down c. towards fireplace.) 

Mrs. Hargraves. Poor, poor Edward. (Goes 
up by desk.) 

Edward (struck with an idea. Goes to photo on 
mantel, and takes it up). I tell you what, darling ; 
I'll ask Evangeline to marry me. Does that please 
you ? 

Mrs. Hargraves (thoughtfully). It's not a bad 
idea. (Coming down c.) 

Edward. I shall tell her I don't love her. 

Mrs. Hargraves. Don't you even like her ? 

Edward. Yes, I like her — she's amiable. 

Mrs. Hargraves. But you're such old friends, and 
Evangeline has always been fond of you. 

Edward. Has she ? 

Mrs. Hargraves. Yes, she's one of those girls 
who always make successful wives, even when they 
merely marry for marrying's sake. 

Edward. She won't be obtrusive, and she's 
awfully clean and tidy. 

(Mrs. Hargraves looks at Edward with a doubtful 
smile.) 

Mrs. Hargraves. She'll accept you, Edward. 
Remember, even if you don't love her very much, 
you've got to be interested in her. 

Edward. Of course, of course ! 

Mrs. Hargraves. And 



20 ANN. 

{The telephone hell rings. Edward goes up to 'phone 
quickly.) 

Dear me, what a start those things give me. 

Edward {answering telephone). Look here, this is 
the seventh time to-day, and I'm fed up with it — fed 

up with it — fed Who is it ? . . . Oh, by Jove ! 

No, I didn't mean you — I'm awfully sorry. The 
mater came up to town to-day . . . yes — and the 
governor. 

Mrs. Hargraves. Who is it ? {Slowly up to 
Edward. 

Edward {to his mother). Evangeline ! {Listening.) 
What ? . . . yes, do — when will you come ? . . . 
To-morrow afternoon— right you are. Tea. 

Mrs. Hargraves {up to Edward, putting her hand 
over receiver). Why don't you propose to her now ? 
{Removes hand from receiver.) 

Edward. Good Lord, over the 'phone ? {To 
Evangeline.) It's all right ; I wasn't speaking to 
you, I — it was the mater. 

Mrs. Hargraves. It will be much easier over the 
'phone. 

Edward {to Mrs. Hargraves). Will it ? 

Mrs. Hargraves. Yes, let me speak to her first. 

Edward {speaking into 'phone). Don't ring off — 
the mater wants to talk to you. . . . Yes, it's 
serious. 

Mrs. Hargraves {taking up 'phone). How are 
you, dear ? {Pause.) Oh, we had quite a nice jour- 
ney. {Pause.) Yes, very well. {With a little ner- 
vous cough.) Evangeline, Edward's going to 

Edward {nervously interrupting). It was a joke, 
mater — a joke ! 

Mrs. Hargraves. Seems very absurd over the 
'phone, but Edward wants to ask you something. 

Edward. Joke, mater ! {Hands outstretched.) 

Mrs. Hargraves {slapping his hands down). Will 
you be quiet ? {Into 'phone.) Yes — he's going to 



ANN 21 

now — I do hope you'll say yes {Pause.) But 

I do hope you'll say yes — some day. 

{She motions to Edward to take receiver. Edward 
takes it nervously and stands uncomfortably.) 

{Collecting his socks.) I'll put your socks away. 

Edward. But I say, mater, you're not going to 
leave me ! 

Mrs. Hargraves {bus.). My dear boy, I can't 
propose for you. 

{Exit Mrs. Hargraves to bedroom l.) 

Edward. Are you there ? . . . Er, good — I'm 
glad you're there. . . . What is what ? . . . Oh, 
I'm just going to tell you. Look here, Evangeline, 
I'm thinking of — well, I want to get married — some 
day . . . get married — married — m-a-r-r-i-e-d. And 
— er, well, you and I have known each other — I say 
{shouting.) you and I have known each other a long 
while. Am I what ? . . . Yes, I am proposing . w . 
of course I'm in earnest — I think we'll just get on 
splendidly and. . . . What's that ? You knew ? 
. . . {Laughs a little nervously.) I know I'm shy. 
You unit ? Oh, thank you — I mean, thank you for 
keeping me out of suspense. . . . Oh, yes, thank 
you — quite a relief. . . . No, I don't love you just 
like that. . . . No, no, no. 1 respect you most awfully, 
and we're just great friends and I want you to — oh, 
well, anyway, it's settled, isn't it ? . . . Good — I 
quite appreciate the point — I do really. The mater 
will be dehghted — dear old mater ! . . . Yes, I f^el 
sure the governor will be delighted ; it was he who 

first suggested it. {Greatly confused.) Well — er 

Good-bye — dear. . . . What ? . . . Of course, I 
forgot. Oh, well, you'll choose it. I don't know 
what you hke — something with diamonds, I suppose ? 
. . . What ? Oh, amethysts ! Yes, I know — 
green stones. Well, good-bye — dear ! To-morrow 



22 ANN. 

at four. . . . No, I can't in the morning. — Pub- 
lishers in the morning. Yes. Good-bye — dear \ 
{He puis up receiver.) Phew ! ! ! (Mops his /ore- 
head with his handkerchief.) 

[Enter Mrs. Hargraves l.) 

Mrs. Hargraves. Well ? 

Edward (up at 'phone — mopping his head). She's 
done it ! 

Mrs. Hargraves. Done what ? (Up stage i.e.) 

Edward. Said " yes " ! 

Mrs. Hargraves (surprised). Already? Well, I 
never. I (Coming down to l.c.) 

Edward. / was surprised, mater. 

Mrs. Hargraves (suppressing her real feelings, 
comes to l.c). It just shows what a nice sensible 
girl she is. 

Edward. She seemed to be expecting it. 

Mrs. Hargraves. Oh, did she ? 

Edward. Do they always expect — I mean, well, 
old darling, never mind, I've done it now. 

Mrs. Hargraves (tearfully). Oh, my dear, I wish 
you knew a little more. (Head on his shoulder.) 

Edward. Why, mater darling, why are you 
crying? 

Mrs. Hargraves (recovering). Never ask a w^oman 
that. 

Edward. Why now ? 

Mrs. Hargraves (dabbing her eyes). Oh, bless the 
boy — because she can't always tell you. (Goes to 
settee, picks up paper and sits down.) 

Edward (looking round room). I suppose I'll have 
to clear out of this. It's a jolly httle flat. 

Mrs. Hargraves. It's not nearly big enough. 
(Listening.) What was that ? 

Edward. What ? (Up to window.) 

Mrs. Hargraves. I thought I heard a noise. 
(Up to Edward.) 



ANN. 23' 

(They listen.) 

Edward. It's nothing. 

Mrs. Hargraves (at window). I never feel safe 
with these fire-escapes. 

Edward. You'd feel a lot more nervous without* 
them. 

Mrs. Hargraves. My dear boy, I may be old- 
fashioned, but I'd far rather risk being burnt than 
being burgled. 

Edward. Oh, nobody's going to burgle you, 
darling. (Whistles a jew notes of " The Wedding- 
March:') ' . 

Mrs. Hargraves. Oh, don't do that, it's so un- 
lucky. ■ I'm going to bed, Edward. {Coming down 
R.) You can see me up to our flat — I'll walk up — 
I hate lifts. 

Edward. Right oh, mother. (Down r.c.) 

Mrs. Hargraves (at r. door). You know, dear, 
I'm much happier about ^^ou. After all, Evangeline's 
better than no one. 

Edward. That's all right, dear mater. 

(Exeunt Mrs. Hargraves and Edward r.) 

(After they have gone, there is a pause. Then enter 
Ann quickly, window r., with a scream. She comes 
down to c. Finding no one in the room, she gives a 
little chuckle and looks around. She sees photos at 
desk ; goes up and picks up the Dean's pfioto.) 

Ann. Father ! Dear sweet old parson ! (Picks 
up photo of Mrs. Hargraves.) Mother ! She's just 
fine ! 

(Comes down c, sees Evangeline's photo on mantel ; 
crosses to it and picks it up.) 

Papa, potatoes, poultry, prunes and prisms ! 

(Up to door L.U., opens it a little way and then shnds it 
quickly.) 

Author's bedroom ! 



24 ANN. 

{Hears Edward ■whistling off and exit Ann quickly 
through ivindow.) 

.Enter Edward r. He comes slowly over to fireplace 
and picks up Evangeline's photo.) 

Edward [looking round the room, rather ruefully). 
It's a jolly little flat. 

(Enter Ann through window precisely as before, with a 
long scream comes down c.) 

(Putting photo doivn). What the — what's the matter ? 

Ann (acting for all she is worth). Oh, oh — oh my ! 
(With her skirts tightly tucked round her.) 

Edward. What on earth's the matter ? 

Ann. Oh — oh — I do hope it didn't get in ! 

Edward. What was it ? 

Ann. a mouse ! 

Edward (relieved). A mouse! Is that all! I 
keep them ! 

(Ann makes a dash for the "window.) 

(With a grin.) White ones — down in the country. 

(Ann sighs with relief and turns from the window and 
comes down c. slowly, looking at Edward.) 

(Curiously, when Ann is well down stage.) I say, 
haven't I seen you before ? 

Ann (laughing). You've heard me (Think- 
ing.) Let me see — yes, six times to-day, and you've 
rudely refused 

Edward (interrupting). Then you're 

Ann (nods her head). I'm the American inter- 
viewer — I'm a business woman ; that's why I in- 
vented the mouse. 

Edward. You invented the mouse ? 

Ann. So as not to shock you with my apparent 
unconventionality. Besides, it's your own fault — 
you've been very stubborn. 



ANN. 25 

Edward (l.c, nervously). Have I ; I — I'm sorry. 

Ann. I was obliged to see you anyhow — on another 
matter. {Goes up and puts hook on table R.) 

Edward. Oh — what ? (Nervously.) 

Ann (r.c). If you were to throw a bucket or two 
of water over me now, you'd probably recognize me. 

Edward. By Jove, you're not the girl who 

Ann. Who made a most complete fool of herself 

at Henley yesterday [Coming over to Edward 

and impulsively holding out her hand.) Thank you so 
much, Mr. Englishman. 

Edward (awkwardly). Oh, it was nothing! 

Ann (rather huffily): Nothing ! Well, perhaps not 
for you. 

Edward. I mean — of course, it was awful for 
you, but nothing to me 

Ann (laughing). I must have looked cute on the 
end of that pole. (More seriously.) You'll let me 
interview you, won't you ? 

Edward. I can't help myself. 

Ann. How did you like my criticism ? 

Edward. You ? 

Ann. In the "New Eye Witness." 

Edward. Oh, you were the— — 

Ann (c). Yes. Have you ever been on a honey- 
moon ? 

Edward (l.c). Good Lord, no ! 

Ann. I'm glad. 

Edward. Why ? 

Ann. Because there's some excuse for your ignor- 
ance. 

Edward. Oh, thank you. 

Ann (up to Edward). But there's no excuse for 
your writing about a thing hke a honeymoon if you've 
never tried it. 

Edward. An author often has to draw upon his 
imagination. 

Ann. Not about a beautiful, sacred thing Uke a 
honeymoon. It's vandalism— sheer vandaUsm. A 



26 



ANN. 



honeymoon is just as sacred and wonderful to me as 
a very beautiful baby all just new and crimply. 
[Suddenly and vigorously, hacking Edward to l.) 
Don't you ever dare to describe a very new baby until 
you've thoroughly mastered ail it's loveliest points, 

Edward [nervously). No, no, certainly not. 

Ann. You're just the sort of person who would 
try and do a silly thing like that. Remember, you've 
spoiled Hannah's Honeymoon and you simply can't 
spoil her baby. 

[Forcing Edward to fender, wkere he sits.) 

Edward. I shouldn't think of it ! 

Ann (looking at him curiously, then coming to chair 
c.) You're just exactly what I expected from the 
book. 

Edward. I — I'm— glad — I came up to 37our ex- 
pectations. 

Ann [sits on chair c). Why do you write so well — 
and so badly ? I love the book — in parts. 

Edward. Thank you. 

Ann. Tell me, where on earth did you pick up 
that mass of muddled information about women ? 

Edward [rises and goes up to her). The fact of the 
matter is — I'll tell you^ — I don't know enough about 
women ! 

Ann. I don't want being told — it's so self-evident. 
[Gently and wonder ingly.) It's how you managed to 
live to years of maturity in such appalling ignorance 
that tickles me. 

Edward. Well, I chd, that's all. 

Ann. Ever kissed a girl ? 

Edward. I — I 

Ann [promptly). No, you haven't. If you said 
you had, I wouldn't believe it. 

Edward. Why ? [Sits on arm of settee.) 

Ann. Because — [rises, gets book and returns to 
chair. Turning over the pages of the book.) — you des- 
cribed a kiss. Yes, here it is, I marked the place. 



ANN. ,. 27- 

{Quoting.) " His lips touched her cheek for one brief 
moment — and he knew that he loved her." (Raises 
her eyes to Heaven, then looks at Edward.) ^ 

Edward. Well, what's wrong ? 

Ann (wonder ingly). Aren't you just an infant ? 
Who ever heard of a kiss lasting a moment teaching 
a man a whole lifetime of love ? 

Edward. I don't quite 

Ann (interposing). Why don't you see it was a 
long kiss that was wanted — a real, long, thrilling kiss — 
not a peck, as if he was saying good-night to his 
sister. What do you suppose a peck on the cheek 
like that could possibly convey ? 

Edward. I don't know 

Ann (looking up at him whimsically). You know, 
I rather like you for it. 

Edward. Why ? 

Ann (turning to the hook). Never mind — now look 
at this. You make your heroine recover from a whole 
rush of tears before she's had time to really enjoy half 
the flood. 

Edward. But surely 

Ann (interposing). A girl who'd turn on the tap 
like that ^wouldn't let up for at least ten or fifteen 
minutes. Your ignorance is simply appalling. 

Edward. Well, I'm Ze.^^nzmg, that's clear. (Rises,, 
goes to fender.) 

Ann. Ever been engaged ? 

Edward. No, but (Looks at photograph of 

Evangeline.) 

Ann. Of course, you've never kissed a girl 

Edward. Er — I am engaged ! (Turns to her.) 

Ann. What ? (Rises, puts book down.) 

Edward. I got engaged to-night, as a matter of 
fact. . . . 

Ann (disappointed). You got engaged to-night ? 

Edward. It's a fact. 

Ann. But how on earth did you get through with- 
out kissing her ? 



28 



ANN. 



Edward. Er — telephone (Indicating tele^ 

phone.) 

Ann. Tel — oh my ! (Roars n'ith laughter — goes 
up and then down stage.) 

Edward. What are you laughing at ? 

Ann (stops laughing). You mean to say you lost 
just the sweetest, finest, loveliest moment of your life 
over an old telephone ? 

Edward. I — I'm very sorry, but I did. 

Ann. And the girl let you do it ? 

Edward. I suppose it was my fault. 

Ann. Did it on the spur of the moment ? 

Edward. Exactly ! 

Ann. And she accepted you ? 

Edward. Yes. 

Ann. What an awful future you've got to face ! 

Edward (nervously). W^hy an awful future ? 

Ann. a girl who'd say " yes " over a telephone, 
unless she was dying or unless she — oh, my gracious, 
what's she like ? 

Edward. She's (Suddenly.) I'll fetch her — 

I'll fetch her. (Getting photograph from mantel.) 

Ann. I thought so. There they are — all five : 
papa, potatoes, poultry, prunes and prisms ! My 
poor boy, you'll never even write another bad novel. 
Where does she live ? 

Edward. She's a But why should I tell 

you ? (Takes photo from Ann.) 

Ann. Oh, Mr. Enghshman, don't start highbrow 
talk ; things are far too serious. 

Edward. Well, she's a Canon's daughter, and I've 
known her all my life. She's awfully clean and tidy. 
She's been brought up in a Cathedral town 

Ann. That is some excuse, I suppose. 

Edward. It's narrowing. (Going l.) 

Ann. Do you love her ? 

Edward (thinking a moment). No, I can't say I 
do. (Puts photo on mantel.) 

Ann. Then what in the world — whv did vou ? 



ANN. 2Q 

Edward (l.) To tell you the honest truth, my 
dear old mother, who's the greatest woman I've ever 
met 

Ann {running over to him impulsively). I like that 
— go on. 

Edward. No, but she's really a very clever 
woman ; and she's been going for me about the book, 
and in fact told me a lot you've just been rubbing in ; 
so, to settle matters, I said I'd get engaged — er — to 
learn — er — I mean 

Ann {clapping her hands and going over to r.) Oh, 
aren't you just lovely ! The true artist sacrifices his 
life to the cause of art ! 

Edward. Well, to be quite honest, it's not 

Ann. Yes, it is ; a nice, funny old thing like you 
can't be allowed to do it. She'll never help you. 
(Sitting on R. arm of settee.) 

Edward (down l.). How do you know ? 

Ann. Don't I tell you a girl who'd say " yes " 
over a 'phone — a nasty, cold, old 'phone — can't 
understand — anything. 

Edward. She's quite a nice girl. 

Ann. Nice ! You don't want a " nice " girl ! 

Edward. How d'you mean ? 

Ann. Oh, how you'd know things if you'd been 
nearer nature. How I'd Uke to gallop you across a 
prairie — how you'd just love it ! The wind and the 
breath of the long grass filling your body with life ; 
and the spirit of the wilderness, filhng your heart and 
soul full of the passionate joy that makes you shout 
aloud — Life ! Love ! Love — Life ! They're one — 
one — whooppee ! (Indian whoop.) 

Edward (dashing across to door r.). I say, look 
out ! 

Ann (contemptuously). Loving by telephone! 
You ! If it weren't so tragic, it'd be comic. 

Edward (sitting in armchair r.). I've done it now. 

Ann. And you'll stick to it ? 

Edward. Of course. 



30 ANN. 

Ann. Oh. silh' man ! (Sits 07i l. end of settee.) 
Come and sit over here. 

(EdWx\rd hesitates and looks shy.) 

(Repeated.) Come and sit over here ! 

(Edward shuffles about, rises, comes r.c. and stops 
again.) 

Come along ! 

(He sits by Ann. Bus. of moiling tip to him repeated 
three times.) 

Now listen to your little American friend. 

Y.t>\\xr'd(u7^ freezing). I'm listening. 

Ann. You're going to spoil your life if you marry 
this cold, dry English girl, that was just made to 
marry a curate. Can't you imagine something of the 
girl who'd help you ? Later on you'll be nervy and 
jerky over your work — just when you're feeling 3'our 
wings and want to do your great book ; and then 
that insipid girl you married won't know quite how 
to fix things, and you'll just want sympathy so badly, 
you'll cry. 

Edward. A man doesn't cry. 

Ann. My! Don't they! Some of the nicest 
men I've ever met could cry at times like little chil- 
dren. (Laying her hand on his.) 

Edward. You're very kind, (Looking down at 
hand.) and s^inpathetic. 

Ann. I'm glad you think so, because I'm trying 
very hard to help you. 

Edward (nervouslv). It's getting rather late, isn't 
it ? 

Ann. Don't spoil things, Mr. Englishman — let 
them soak in awhile. I'd love you to know there's 
just one woman you've met who's taught you just a 
little about women. 

Edward. Would you mind teUing me some more ? 
(Sniffing her hair.) 



ANN. 31 

Ann (aftev a little silent chuckle). Do you know 
something ? 

Edward. No, tell me. (Sniffing.) 

Ann. You'll never divulge it to a living soul if I 
tell you ? 

Edward (rather priggishly). Are you sure it's 
something that you should tell me ? 

Ann (mock seriousness). I feel that I can trust you. 

Edward. If you are quite sure that you won't 
regret telling me — do : you may trust me — utterly. 
(Sniffing.) 

Ann (impressively). Weil — it's disgraceful, but I 
paid five and a half dollars a bottle for that perfume 
you're so rapturously inhaling from my hair. 

Edward (straightening up awkivardly). Really, 
as much as that ! 

Ann (laughs merrily). Oh, Mr. Enghshman, you're 
too good to be true. What's the girl's name ? 

Edward. Evangeline. 

Ann. About the only romantic thing about her. 

Edward. What's your name ? 

Ann (conteniptuously). Ann. The least romantic 
thing about me. 

Edward (trying to he polite). Ann — it's 

Ann. No, it isn't. It's a fool-name — reminiscent 
of old-m^aid aunts ! 

Edward. I don't think so. 

Ann. It is. What's your name ? 

Edward. Edward. 

Ann. I guess we're not a very romantic combina- 
tion in names. 

Edward (dreamily). No. 

Ann. Listen ! (There is a long pause.) You'd 
love to kiss me, wouldn't you? 

Edward. My dear girl ! ! ! — I mean 

Ann. I'm not saying I'd let you. 

Edward. I — I didn't say I wanted to. 

Ann. Then don't. (Face close to his, and looking 
straight at him.) 



32 ANN. 

Edward (nervously). I won't. 

Ann. You mustn't ! [Putting her mouth close to 
his.) 

Edward {without moving). How could I ? [Looks 
at Evangeline's picture awkwardly.) 

Ann [laughing). How could you ! Oh, my, Mr. 
Englishman, I like you. 

(Edward suddenly looks at his watch and rises.) 

What's the matter ? 

Edward. Suppose my dear old dad comes in 
and finds you here ? 

Ann. Oh joy — oh rapture ! 

Edw^-^rd [comes c.) I wonder what the mater 
would say. 

Ann. I think she'd just love it. [Rises.) 

Edward. I believe you're right. 

Ann. Honestly, am I helping you, or would you 
hke me to go ? [Comes l.c.) 

Edward. I wouldn't like you to go, but you 
must ! 

Ann. Why ? 

Edward. Because — because — hang it all ! I — 
I 

Ann [leading Edward to photo of Evangeline). 
What do you suppose she would think if she saw us ? 

Edward. Evangeline ? 

(Ann nods her head solemnly.) 

Heaven alone knows ! 

Ann (l.). I'll tell you. 

Edward. What ? 

Ann. She'd just be ignorantly — shocked ! 

Edward. Ignorantly ! 

Ann. a woman who'd say " yes " over a tele- 
phone, would be ignorantly shocked. She'd jump 
to conclusions like a very active kangaroo. 

Edward. How much did you say that scent cost ? 



ANN. 33 

Ann (sharply). You're not thinking of giving 
" Prunes " any, are you ? 

Edward. No, no, not " Prunes " — I mean, 
Vangy. 

Ann (decidedly). I couldn't stand for that. 

Edward. I only thought I'd like to have some 
myself. 

Ann (brighlly). I'll send you a bottle (close to 
Edward.) for a wedding present. (Crosses up to 
window.) I must go. 

Edward. Oh, I say, don't go yet ! 

Ann. I must. I want to write you up while 
you're fresh in my mind. 

Edward. You're never going to ! 

Ann (up c). It's been a very interesting inter- — 

{Lilt bell.) rxZy*-^^- '^^-n^ 

Edward (as he hears some ^one outside). Good l^^^^ 
Lord, there's my dad ! (Rushing over to door r.) 

Ann (smiling). I'd just love to meet him. 

Edward (at door r.). But you — I mean — good 
Heavens, if he found you here ! I say, what the 
deuce — look here, d'ypu mind going ? 

Ann (going to window). Of course. 

Edward (going towards her hurriedly). No, no ! 
He'll see you there from the staircase. 

Ann (enjoying his panic). Well, in there. (Going 
towards bedroom.) 

Edward {rushes towards her and stops c. up stage). 
No, no, not there, that's my — my 

Ann (under standingly) . Oh, that's all right. (As 
she exits.) I'll just make some notes on an English 
author's bedroom. 

(Exit Ann l.) 

(Enter Dean r.) 

Edward (nervously). Hullo, dad. I'd 



34 ANN. 

Dean (beaminoly). My dear lad ! 

Edward. I thought you'd gone to bed. I — I — 
was just turning in- 

Dean{r.c.). Yourmother has toldme. I couldn't 
possibly retire without {Taking his hand.) offering you 
i^y warmest congratulations. God bless you, my 
boy. 

Edward (l.c, unenthusiastically). Thank you, 
dad! 

Dean. Your dear mother and I are indeed thank- 
ful to Providence for this sudden fulfilment of our 
mast earnest wishes 

Edward. I thought you said there was plenty of 
time. [Down l.) 

Dean. Did I ? Ah, yes, to be sure. But we're 
grateful it has not been longer. Evangeline is a girl 
With a thousand — I mean, in a thousand. 

Edward. She is ! 

Dean. Her income, with yours — but there, we 
must not expatiate on the loaves and fishes. They 
are there ! Suffice it to know — they are there ! 

Edward. Of course, you know, I don't love 
Evangeline in quite the conventional sense. 

Dean (impressively, and coming over to Edward l.). 
My dear boy, your mother and I fully appreciate your 
difficulties — difficulties inherited possibly from my- 
self. Between ourselves — entirely between ourselves 
— I never loved your dear mother in quite the con- 
ventional sense. But look at the result. 

Edward [smothering a laugh). Yes, dad ! 

Dean (sermonizing) . Harmony ! Complete har- 
mony, based on common sense and daily inter- 
course. 

Edward. I wonder if 

^ Dean (sermonically). Intimacy, intimacy, m}^ 
dear boy, intimacy is the soil for a common sense 
matrriage ! In intimacy the little seed of love takes 
root slowly but surely. In intimacy it blossoms forth 
hke a grain of mustard seed. 



ANN. 35 5 

(During this speech, Edward makes repeated little 
attempts to stop the Dean.) 

Edward {sigh.s). Yes, dad — er — you said all that 
last Sunday ! 

Dean. Did I ? Well, there — there— we'll defer 
discussing the ethics of love and marriage until you 
have become a little more intimate. Now, I must go 

to bed {Pausing.) Dear me, what a delicious 

perfume there is in the room. (He sniffs.) Delicious ! 

Edward {starts). Yes ! 

Dean. I never noticed it before I went out. 

Edward. No — no — you wouldn't. It's a — a — 
new hair- wash I'm trying. 

Dean {up stage r., delighted). Hair- wash ! My boy, 
I must try it — it's delicious ! Could you let me have 
a little ? I suffer slightly from dryness of the scalp-. 

(Dean goes towards bedroom. EdWx\rd jumps over 
settee and stops him.) 

Edward. It's very bad for that. {Bringing him 
down L.) 

Dean (l.c). A pity — a pity — a great pity. Well, 
good-night, my boy ! Good-night and God bless you, 
and keep you from all temptation. 

{On the word " temptation," Edward turns his head 
and gives a quick look towards bedroom L.) 

Edward. Good-night, dad ! 

Dean {by the door). You're quite sure that hair- 
wash does induce dryness ? 

Edward. Quite, dad, quite ! 

Dean. Pity — great pity ! I must get your dear 
mother to use it first. Good-night. 

{Exit Dean r.) 

(Edward carefully shuts the door, then sits c. and mops 



36 ANN. 

his face with his handkerchief . Enter Ann l., note- 
hook in hand, smilingly intent on what she has put 
down.) 

Ann. Well ? (Coming c.) 

Edward [starting up and creeping over to door r.). 
We must be careful ! My dad came in to congratu- 
late me. 

Ann (enigmatically). Maybe ! (Goes l.c.) 

Edward (l.c). "Maybe"? I don't quite 

Ann (shutting him up). Never mind. I've made 
some lovely copy out of your bedroom. 

Edward (staggered). Copy out of my bedroom ? 
{Up stage R.) 

Ann (suddenly amused). " Notes on an English 
Author's Bedroom." (Referring to notebook.) 
" Doesn't use a comb. Doesn't get his suit pressed 
often enough. Doesn't use hair-wash. Boots very 
badly cleaned — query, does he do it himself ? " Do 
you ? 

Edward. Yes. 

Ann. I thought so. It's an art in my country. 

Edward (a trifle indignant). Indeed ? (Down 
R.C.\ 

Ann (referring to hook). " Doesn't wear sleeping 
suits." (To Edward.) You must look cute in that 
flannelette night-shirt. 

Edward. Look here, I call this simply outrage- 
ous ! 

Ann. So do I ! Artistically outrageous ! 

Edward (almost speechless). I — I say (Up 

stage.) 

Ann (coolly). You'd wear sleeping suits if I 
married you. 

Edward. Don't be indelicate ! (Up hy window.) 

Ann (steadily). Prunes probably won't mind. 

Edward. Well, I 

Ann (closing hook). It will work up nicely into a 
half column. 



ANN. 37 

Edward. You never mean to say you're going to 
publish all these details ! (Down to chair.) /"^ 

Ann. You bet your dear life I am ! ( Crossin g^ i ^) 
Edward lirp to window.) > ^ 

"Edward (desperately). What about — I mean, "x 
you — I say, vou won't put in the conversation we 
had 

Ann (up stage r.c. Meaningly and seriously). I 
trust I quite understand the meaning of true deUcacy. 

Edward (down l.C; rather crushed) . I'm — I'm so 
awfully sorry. 

Ann (coming right down to him, and looking up in 
his face). Ba-by ! (Upward inflection.) 

Ebwarb .(staring at her). By Jove, you're an 
amazing girl ! 

Ann. Tell me — have I helped you ? 

Edward. I'd love you to meet my mother. 

Ann. And I'd just love to meet her. 

Edward. Couldn't you come in to-morrow ? 

Ann. Bully ! (Down r.) But how are you going 
to explain me ? 

Edward (doubtfully). Hum ! 

Ann (exactly the same inflection). Hum ! 

Edward. I tell you what ! (Sits on arm of chair 
c.) Send up your card and ask for an interview. 
They'll think no end of it. 

Ann. Is she going to be there—" Prunes and 
Prisms " ? 

Edward. Yes, I'm afraid " Prunes " — (jumping 
up) — I mean " Prisms " — I mean Vangy will be here. 

Ann. I'd love to come. (Crosses to mantel l. 
and looks at Evangeline's photo.) I'd just love to 
see the girl you're not going to marry. 

Edward. " Not going to marry " ? 

A.N'ii(decisively) . I'm going to help you right out of it. 

Edward. What do you mean ? (Sits on chair c.) 

Ann (sits on r. arm of settee). I simply refuse to 
allow it. Look here, you've struck an awful snag ! 

Edward. A snag ? 



38 ANN. 

Ann. Yes — you're just like a nice, new, white- 
sailed vessel that's never known a real tough breeze. 
Don't you see you're built for storms and headwinds 
and the mastering of them ; not just the calm waters 
of a summer day ? Here you are, saihng out to sea, 
and in sheer ignorance of how to navigate your own 
course you've hit a snag ! (With a little laugh.) The 
little tug " American Ann " is going to tow you off — • 
right into harbour. 

[She takes hold of Edward's two hands and pulls him 
round and down R.) 

Edward. Yes, but why do 3'Ou want to do this ? 
(Taking away his hands and backing a step.) 

(Warni7ig for curtain.) 

Ann (to herself — aloud). Shall I tell him ? 

Edward (eagerly). Yes. 

Ann (crisply). No, perhaps I'd better not. (Goes 
up stage to window, gets on to seat and out on balcony.) 

Edward (up to her). But I want to know ! 

Ann (on balcony). Oh, do you ? {Rather cheekily.) 

Edward (still more eager). Yes ! 

Ann (tantalizingly) . You'd really like to know ? 
(Hands each side of window.) 

Edward (very strong). Please ! 

Ann. Well, maybe ! 

Edward (breathless with interest). Yes — "May- 
be " ? 

Ann. Maybe I'll marry you myself ! 
(Ann disappears quickly, laughing, to r. Edward 

rushes up to window, and leans far out, looking after 

her.) 

(Curtain.) 
(End of Act I.) 



ACT II 

Scene. — Same as Act I. 

A7t afternoon tea-table set for tea, stands c. in front of 
armchair. Fire lighted. 

At rise of curtain the stage is empty. Enter Edward R- 
He comes to settee with parcel, and takes o-ff hat and 
gloves. Opens parcel, takes out pyjamas, tries them 
on, opens bottle of hair-wash, shakes some on hand 
and compares it with cushion. Rises, looks every- 
where for comb and at last finds it in his inner coat 
pocket. Shakes hair-wash on hair, then goes to 
fireplace and elaborately parts hair. Then gathers 
things up and goes off L. Returns immediately and 
comes to desk. Gets duster and dusts boots. Sees 
five cups on table, counts on his fingers then goes tv 
book-case and gets extra cup, dusts it with same duster. 
Sees what he is doing, is horrifiied, takes cup back to 
bookcase and changes it for another. Gets kettle from 
window and puts it on hob. Takes photo of EvanCxE- 
LiNE, dusts it, puts it back, sits on settee, smells 
cushion. Looks at photo, puts his hat oriand exits 



{Exit Edward r.) ; ' '" 

{Enter Ann from window with bundle. She puts 
things on armchair. Takes slippers up and puts 
them under chair R. Blouse on chair L. of desk, 
stockings under cushion R. of settee, nightdress under 
cushion l. of settee. Takes candy from one of the 
dishes and pops it in her mouth.) 



40 ANN. 

Ann (c). I guess that will about do it— Maybe ! 
[Exit Ann hy window r.) 
(Enter Billy and Edward r. Billy goes over to 

L.C.) 

Edward (r.c). JoHy glad you've turned up. 
Why didn't you look in last night ? 

Billy (l.c). Well, I saw your dad to the door, 
and then I bolted back to make some rough sketches.. 
{Sniffs the air.) 

Edward. They ought to be here soon. 

Billy (sniffing). What the — I say, who's been 

(Sniffs.) Can't you smell something ? (Sniffs.) 

Edward (nervously). Smell? Smell what? 

Billy. Scent. Ripping good scent, too ! (Snif- 

Edward (sniffing.) Now you mention it — I — I 
think I do. (Duster to nose.) 

(Bus. : Billy indicates duster. Edward throws it 
away iznih an exclamation of disgust.) 

Billy (suspiciously). I say, Teddy, who's been 
paying you a visit ? 

Edward (uneasily) Paying me a visit ? 

Billy. You don't mean to say you've done it ! 

Edward. Done what ? 

Billy. Edward, I believe you're a dark old horse 
after all. 

Edward (rather confused). Don't be an ass. 
(Crossing to fireplace.) 

Billy (tracking scent to settee). Warm ! Warmer ! 
Warmer ! Teddy, she's been sitting here / (Sitting 
on settee.) 

Edward (desperately). Look here, old man, I'll tell 
you, but for heaven's sake keep it to yourself. 

Billy (grinning). Now we're talking ! 

Edward. Last night after you were gone. I pro- 
posed to — er 



■ ANN. 41- 

Billy {astonished). Proposed? Who to? 

Edward {taking up photo). I proposed to Evange- 
line. 

Billy. Evangeline ? When did she turn up ? 

Edward. Well, the fact of the matter is, I did it 
over the telephone. 

Billy. Ygu would ! 

Edward. And she accepted me. 

Billy. The deuce she did. 

Edward. The mater was delighted. Dear old 
mater ! 

Billy. Yes, but what I want to know is — 'when 
did the scent come in ? 

Edward. Later ! 

Billy. Later ! {With a grin.) Gather round ! 

Edward. After I'd seen the mater upstairs to her 
fiat, I walked in here and found 

Billy {excitedly). The girl with the scent ? 

Edward. Exactly ! 

Billy. Immense 1 

Edward. She came through the window. 

Billy {astounded, looks round at window R.). 
What ! 

Edward. From the next flat along the fire escape. 

Billy. And you sent her back home again like a 
good little boy ? {Pats Edward on shoulder.) 

Edward {indignantly). No, I jolly well didn't. 

Billy. You didn't ! {Springs up and grasps 
Edward's hand with fervour.) Edward, old man, my 
warmest and sincerest congratulations. {Shaking 
hands v igorously . ) 

Edward. Don't be an ass. {Crossing to r.c.) 
She was only a mad American — a newspaper reporter ; 
and, incidentally, the girl I lugged out of the water at 
Henley. 

Billy. What ! That topping little girl a news- 
paper reporter ? 

Edward. I suppose it accounts for her eccentric 
behaviour. 



42 ANN. 

Billy. My dear old chap, the more attractive the 
girl the more eccentric can she become to the unso- 
phisticated male mind. 

Edward. Can she ? {Goes up to desk at back c, 
gets golf club and sand paper.) 

Billy. Yes ! It's all the outcome of habit. 
Woman is a habit. She may be a bad habit or a 
good habit — but she's always a habit. 

Edward. Eh ? {Coming down r.c.) 

Billy. Lucky devil — what a delightful lot of 
things you've got to learn about the habit ! 

Edward (r.c, polishing golf -stick). I wish to good- 
ness I'd started investigations earlier in life. I found 
her very instructive 

Billy. No, old man, not instraciive — never apply 
the term instructive to a woman nowadays. 

Edward. Why not ? 

Billy. Because, my dear old chap, the only term 
to apply to a woman nowadays is destructive — or 
constructive — or obstructive — but never instructive ! 
However, you found little Stars and Stripes interest- 
ing ? 

Edward. She was — very interesting ; and I asked 
her to tea to meet the mater. 

Billy {knowingly). Oh, did you ? 

Edward {trying to explain things away). Yes, I 
thought I ought to be polite. {Comes R.c.) 

Billy. Of course ! [Of course ! {Bursts out 
laughing.) I say, have you told Evangeline about 
this ? 

Edward. Good Lord, no ; she'd never under- 
stand — ^I mean, not yet. 

Billy. Edward, I'm sure you are a dark old 
horse after all. 

Edward. Oh, rot ! Now remember, I shall pre- 
tend not to know her, except as an interviewer. 

Billy. Of course — of course ! {Bursts out laugh- 
ing at Edward.) 

Edward. And I wish to goodness you wouldn't 



ANN. 43 

try to imply anything that isn't— I mean, that 
doesn't — doesn't 

Billy {breaking in). Don't stutter, old man ; 
you're only giving yourself away. Anything that 
isn't suggested by one of the most delicate and 
expensive perfumes on the market. 

Edward. Oh, shut up ! {Goes down r.) 

Billy. I say, Teddy, have you seen Evangeline 
since she accepted you ? 

Edward. No, she's coming to tea this afternoon. 
I couldn't see her this morning — busy this morning — 
publishers this morning. 

Billy. Oh, she's coming to tea this afternoon ? 
And the little American girl is coming to tea this after- 
noon ? Well, of course, I quite see I'm going to have 
the afternoon of my life. {Rises and goes to fireplace. 
Stands with back to fire, laughing.) 

{A knock at the door.) 

Edward. There she is, I expect. {Very pleased.) 
Billy {laughing). Yes, " there she is " ;— er — 

which one ^ 

Edward {downcast). " Which one " ? {Pause.) 

Oh, I'll see. 

(Edward goes to door r. and opens it. Enter Evange- 
line. She stands just inside door.) 

Edward. Oh, how do you do ? 

Evangeline {to Edward — primly). How do you 
do ? {To Billy.) How do you do ? {Stiffly.) 
Oh, I think I'm too early. {Crosses front of Edward 
to R.c.) 

Edward. No, no— not at all — Billy's here to 
chaperone us. 

Evangeline. Oh, perhaps I'd better wait outside 
for Mrs. Hargraves. 

Billy {to Evangeline ; rather nervously— obviously 
afraid of her). It's air right. Miss Lipscomb; I'm 



44 



ANN. 



here, and — you're here — and — er — we're all there — er 
— I mean, we're all here ! I'll just nip up and let 
Mrs. Hargraves know you are here. How d'you do, 
again ! (Shakes hands with Evangeline, and crosses 
her, so that he is between her and Edward. He notices 
Edward and suddenly remembers his manners.) Oh, 
I'm so sorry — quite forgot. Hearty Congrats., and — 
er — -many happy returns and a merry Christmas ■ 

(Exit Billy pushed out by Edward, quickly r.) 

(Evangeline goes over to l.c.) 

Edward. Oh, w^on't you sit down ? 

(Evangeline sits on settee.) 

Is father well ? 

Evangeline. Papa is quite well, thank you. 

Edward. Thank yow. (Pause.) (Very nervously.) 
Won't vou take off your — er — funny little pale blue 
waist-coat ? 

Evangeline. No, thanks — it's a little chilly for 
summer. 

Edward (nervous). Chilly — oh, yes, yes, that's 
why I had a hre. (Crosses to window up l. and shuts 
it.) There ! 

Evangeline (after sniffing cushion). How ex- 
ceedingly disgusting ! Edward ! 

Edward. Yes (Pause.) Dear heart. (Com- 

ing down from unndow to just above settee.) 

Evangeline. D'you like scent, Edward ? 

Edward. Yes — no — yes — no, I mean, yes — 5ome 
scent. (Down to back of tea-table.) 

Evangeline. I don't like scent, Edward — you'd 
better know it at once. 

Edward. Yes — yes, of course ; er — I'll make a 
note of it. 

(There is a very awkward pause.) 



ANN. 



45 




Evangeline. I suppose you're very shy now ? 

Edward {with slight nervous laugh and absently 
picking up tea-spoon from table). I'm, well, you see 
— it's — the first occasion ; and the first occasion is 
always a trifle tricky. 

Evangeline (deliberately putting up veil). Don't 
you think you ought to kiss me ? 

(Edward drops spoon into tray 

It's usual, isn't it ?. C-^-lL^t-^ 

Edward. Oh yes, of course. I mean t^^ 

(Comes round front of tea-table and sits beside Evange- 
line.) 

Evangeline. It's usual when people are engaged, 
isn't it ? 
Edward. Yes. 

(Evangeline turns her head round, and puts out her 
mouth to Edward, who, with one finger on her cheek, 
pushes her head gently round again.) 

Edward. For the present, I think (Kisses 

her.) For the present (Pause.) Thank you. 

(Vigorously polishes golf -stick.) 

Evangeline. (Bus. hand on his to stop him). 
I'm so glad you've been honest with me — that's 
really why I accepted you. You know I don't 
believe in love — I mean, not the sihy sort one reads 
about — we've discussed it so often. Your book was 
wrong in places about women, but you're perfectly 
right, I'm convinced, in the love-scenes. 

Edward (a little startled). Everybody thinks 
that is just where the book is weak. Now, last night, 

Ann (Pulls himself up in confusion.) (Bus. 

ivith emery paper and candy.) 

Evangeline. I like the calm sensible way you 
make your heroine behave. I think I may have 
helped you without your knowing it. 



46 



ANN. 



Edward. Perhaps you have. (Bus. with golf- 
stick.) 

Evangeline (Bus. with hand). I think it was so 
clever of you to write about a honeymoon as you did 
and that passage about an engagement : " His hps 
touched her cheek for one brief moment " — 

(Touches hev own cheek where Edward has kissed her.) 

So true ! 

Edward (surprised). Do 3'ou think so ? 

Evangeline. It shows me so clearly that you 
have genius. 

Edward (more surprised). Genius ! Of, yes, of 
course, genius — genius. (Rather conceitedly. Bus. 
with golf -stick.) 

Evangeline (stopping him). Edward, don't do 
that ! Yes ! A genius can always write brilliantly, 
even in cold blood, on an}' subject, however inexperi- 
enced he happens to be. I think it was wonderful 
how you got it right. 

Edward (turning round to her). But n^as it right ? 

Evangeline. Right — of course it was ! 

Edward. How on earth do you know ? 

Evangeline (greatly confused). Oh, well, I — I — 

of course, I mean it sounded right (Desperately .) 

Well, how did you know ? 

Edward. Oh, / made it all up ! 

Evangeline. I'm glad. 

Edward. Glad — why ? 

Evangeline. Because if I'd thought that this 
had been from an actual experience — I might have 
.been jealous. 

Edward (awkwardly). Oh — well you — I don't 
think you have any cause — (pause) — dear one ! 

Evangeline. It has always seemed to me that a 
really good woman should be as jealous of a man's 
past as of his future. 

Edward. Ouite so. 



ANN. 47 

Evangeline. A good wife should always be jealous, 
Edward. 

Edward. Seems a trifle early Victorian, don't it ? 
(Rises, comes c.) 

Evangeline. Certainly not. I was always 
brought up to believe that real love should never be 
free from jealousy ! 

Edward {a little dreamily). And I'd begun to hope 
it was free from everything save Love. 

Evangeline. I hope you aren't becoming senti- 
mental. 

Edward. I wonder if you know what sentiment 
means ? 

(Voices heard off R.) 

Ah, there's the mater. 
Evangeline. Oh, I'm so glad. 

(Ent:r Mrs. Hargraves r.. followed by the Dean and 
Billy.) 

Mrs. Kargraves. My dear boy, I'm afraid we're 
late. (Crosses l.c. to Evangeline.) My child, I 
must apologize. (Kisses her.) You've made us so 
happy. (Crosses to settee.) 

Evangeline. I'm so glad ! 

Dean (c to Evangeline). My dear— God bless 
you. I'm overjoyed to think my son has such a 
suitable helpmeet. (Solemnly.) A Ruth to any 
Boaz ! (Sits in chair l. corner.) 

Evangeline (with much drawl). Oh, thank you so 
much. 

Billy (r.c). Oh ! Now we're all merry and 
bright ! Now perhaps Edward'll be able to write 
about women. 

Evangeline. I think he does, Mr. Lloyd. (Sits 
on settee r. end.) 

Billy, much subdued, turns up stage R.. almost 
immediately afterwards sitting R.) 



48 ANN. 

Mrs. Hargraves. But you'll teach him many 
things a nice girl alone can teach. 

{They all settle themselves as they talk. Dean in chair 
down L. Mrs. Hargraves on the settee. Evange- 
line hy her side. Billy in chair r.) 

Dean. I do trust your dear father will be dehghted. 

Evangeline. I'm sure of it. Aunt was so pleased 
when I told her last night. 

Mrs. Hargraves {drily). Was she ? {To change 
the subject.) Isn't that kettle boiling — I'm dying for 
tea. 

Edward {going to fireplace with tea-pot). I think 
it is. {To Evangeline.) Won't you pour it out, — 
{pause) — dear one ? 

Evangeline. Oh, Mrs. Hargraves ought to do 
that. 

(Billy discovers Ann's slippers under his chair and 
picks them up.) 

Mrs. Hargraves. My dear, I simply loathe pour- 
ing out tea — a parson's wife invariably does. 

Billy {coming down r. with slippers). Hallo, who's 
been leaving their slippers about ? 

Evangeline. They're a girl's. 

Billy {cheerfully). Yes, aren't they ? 

Evangeline {looks witheringly at Billy, then takes 
one slipper from him and passes it to Mrs. Hargraves ; 
then takes the other slipper.) 

Mrs. Hargraves. So they are — how extraordin- 
ary ! 

Edward {at fireplace, with kettle, to Mrs. Har- 
graves). I expect they're yours, old darling. (He 
has his hack to them as he bends to pour water into 
kettle.) 

Dean. They don't appear to be your size, my 
dear ! 

Mrs. Hargraves. No— they certainly are not my 
sHppers. 



ANN. 49 

Edward. But who on earth's could they be if 
they're not yours, mater ? {Brings tea-pot and kettle 
in front to tea-table c.) 

Mrs. Hargraves {laughing). My dear boy, how 
on earth can I tell you ? {Sits.) 

Evangeline. A very small foot, too. 

(Edward crosses to Dean l.) 

Dean {taking the other). Very small indeed — very, 
very small indeed ; almost Chinese. 

(Edward takes one slipper from Dean and crosses 
R.c. and stands l. of Billy.) 

Evangeline. No, American. {Stands above tea- 
table and pours out tea.) 

(Edw^\rd starts.) 

Billy {brightly). I know ! Perhaps the char lady 
left them. 

{Knock outside R. door.) 

Edward (c). I wonder who that is ? 

Billy (r.c.). Haven't the least idea, old chap. 
Perhaps it's the owner of the slippers. {Bursts out 
laughing and goes up to window.) 

Edward. Don't be an ass, Bill. I'll see, dad, I'll 
see. 

(Edward opens door r. and enter Ann. She is very 
smartly dressed. She pretends not to know Edv^ard.) 

Ann {just inside door). Are these Mr. Edward 
Hargarves' Chambers ? 

Edward. Yes, I am Hargraves. 

Ann. The author of ''Hannah's Honeym.oon ? " 

(Mrs. Hargraves places shoe on settee.) 

Edward. Yes. 

Ann. I'm an American newspaper woman and I 
just came to write you up. I wonder if you will be so 
kind as to grant me an interview ? 

D 



50 ANN. 

Edward. Oh, won't you come in ? (Bus. indicat- 
ing room ii'ith kettle in left hand — show in right hand.) 

Ann. Oh. but I see 3^ou have a party ! Perhaps 
I. had better come again. 

Edward. We shall be delighted, shan't we, mater ? 

Mrs. Margraves (rising). Do come in, Miss ■ 

{Advances c.) 

Ann. Anning. {Comes r.c. and shakes Jiands with 
Mrs. Margraves.) 

(Billy snatclies shoe from Edward, and puts it away 
at hack.) 

I'm really pleased to meet the mother of so great an 
author. 

Mrs. Margraves. You're very kind, Miss Anning. 
This is my husband. 

(Ann goes over l. to the Dean.) 

Dean. Charmed, my dear young lady, to make 
your acquaintance. My son is indeed honoured. 
{Shakes hands.) 

Mrs. Margraves. This is my future daughter-in- 
latw, Miss Lipscombe. 

Ann {to Evangeline). How very interesting ! 
Aren't you just proud of him ? {Shaking hands with 
Evangeline very vigorously, and with both hands.) 

Evangeline {rather haughtily, and taking her hands 
away). Why, of course ! {Sits in chair c.) 

Edward {bringing Billy by arm round to c.). This 
is my old pal, Billy — black-and-white artist — you 
must write him up. (Bus. spilling water from kettle.) 

Ann. Very pleased to know you, Mr. Billy. 

{They shake hands.) 

Mrs. Margraves. Now. Miss Anning, I'm sure 
you'd Uke some tea before ■ 

Ann. I'd just love it ! {To Billy.) Vm crazy 
about your English tea-habit. 



ANN. 51 

(Billy goes to r. of tea-table. Evangeline gives him 
cup of tea for Dean, also indicates cake-stand. 
Billy takes tea to Dean.) 

Mrs. Margraves. Do sit down. 

(Mrs. Hargraves sits l. end of settee. Ann sits r. 
end.) 

Ann {to Evangeline). Oh, what am I sitting on ? 
A real American shoe, by the looks of it. 

Evangeline. Is it ? We were wondering ■ 

Mrs Hargraves. The fact is, Miss Anning, a 

most curious thing happened just before ■ [To 

Edward n^Jio hands her tea.) Thank you, son — a 
most curious thing happened before 

(Billy hands her cake.) 

No, thank you. Mr. Lloyd. 

(Billy retires witJi cake-stand.) 

As I was saying — a most curious — — 

Kdward (interrupting). Excuse me, mother. Miss 
Anning — one ? Two ? 

Ann. Three, please. 

Mrs. Hargraves. That shoe is a mystery. 

Ann. Really ? You don't say so ? 

Mrs. Hargraves. Yes. we found a pair of them 
here this — — 

Edward. Miss Anning ! Cake ? Bread ? But- 
ter ? Billy ? Billy ! 

(Billy runs round l. with cake-stand.) 
Ann. No, thank you. 

(Billy retires crushed.) 
I think I'd like,, just a candy. 

(Edward looks at Ann inquiringly.) 
A sweet. 



62 ANN. 

(Edward hands plate of sweets.) 

Ann. I'm so sorry I interrupted you ! 

Mrs. Hargraves. These shoes were found here in 
my son's rooms, and there's no explaining their 
presence. 

Ann. Indeed — now that's very interesting. It 
will make a great headhne. 
Omnes. a headhne ? 

Mrs. Hargraves. A headhne ? I don't under- 
stand ! 

Edward (by tea-table — meaningly). You wouldn't 
be so cruel, Miss Anning ? 

Ann. It would just sell the book like anything, 
Mr. Hargraves. 

Dean [putting cup down on fender). Sell the book ? 
How could the slippers sell the book ? {Taking Mrs. 
Hargraves' cup and putting it down on fender.) 

Ann. Why, yes ; interviewer finds English Author 
perplexed. Who left her American footware behind ? 

Evangeline {haughtily). You wouldn't be so 
vulgar ! 

Ann. Vulgar ! My dear Miss Lipscomb, why 
vulgar ? There's nothing vulgar in a slipper. 

Mrs. Hargraves {pleasantly). I think. Miss 
Anning, it might be as well if you suppressed this 
little incident. 

Ann. Of course, I will if you hke ; {to Edward) 
but how did they get here, Mr. Hargraves ? {Giving 
her cup to Edward.) 

Edward {meaningly). I can't think ! I can't 
think ! {Stands c., drinking from Ann's cup.) 

Ann. It's quite a predicament — a modern Cin- 
derella and her shppers. 

(During the preceding speech, Evangeline has put her 

cup down and re-arranged the cushions — in doing so, 
she noiv unearths the lace blouse.) 

Evangeline. Oh, what am I crushing ? 



ANN. 53 

Ann {taking blouse and holding it tip). Just the 
loveliest skirtvvaist in the world. 

Mrs. Hargraves. Good Heavens ! {Takes 
blouse from Ann.) 

Dean {taking blouse from Mrs. Hargraves). 
God bless my soul ! 

Edward. What in Heaven's name ! 

Evangeline. It's a woman's blouse ! {Rising 
and getting r.c.) 

Ann. It's too cunning for anything ! 

Billy {convulsed). Edward, you'd look topping in 
it. 

Evangeline. Edward — what does it mean ? 

Dean. It's really very, very extraordinary. 

Evangeline. Very ! 

Mrs. Hargraves. My dear boy ■ {She laughs.) 

You haven't been buying Evangehne's trousseau ? 

(Billy bursts out laughing.) 

Edwvvrd. Of course not, mater. 
Ann {quite seriously). I never was so tempted in 
all my life. 

{Everybody looks at her. Mrs. Hargraves laughs 
softly.) 

Omnes. Tempted ! 

Evangeline. Tempted ! What do you mean ? 

Ann. Just think of the copy I can't use — it's 
worth at least two hundred and fifty dollars. 

Evangeline. Miss Anning, I can't see any joke 
in this at all ! You appear to forget that I am engaged 
to Mr. Hargraves. 

Ann. I wish I could forget it ; when I think of all 

the copy just throwing itself at me (Ann picks 

up cushion and discloses stockings, which Mrs. Har- 
graves picks up.) 

Billy. By Jove, another find ! 

Mrs. Hargraves {collapsing into uncontrollable 
mirth). Mv dear Edward, an enemv has done this ! 



54 



ANN. 



Dean. But what are they ? {Takes stockings 

from Mrs. Hargraves.) What on earth ! 

Evangeline {severely). They're stockings ! 
Ann. Looks like a real bully pair of French silk ! 

(Edward stands choking.) 

Evangeline {to Billy). If you did this as a 
practical joke, Mr. Lloyd, let me tell you it's exceed- 
ingly horrid of you. 

Billy. Oh, I say, do I look as if I could ? 

Mrs. Hargraves {laughing). On your honour, 
Billy ? {Goes c, then up stage r.c.) 

Billy. I've never seen such things before ! 
(Explodes with laughter, turns up a little, then down 
again.) 

(Evangeline and Mrs. Hargraves at window.) 

Ann, Say, this is just too cute for anything. 
D'you know, the situation alone, cabled in a dozen 
words to the Associated Press, would work up into a 
corking three column story. 

Dean {stiffly). Personally, I think this beyond a 
joke, madam. That this feminine — I think one might 
Idc right in describing this as intimate feminine attire — 

has been discovered in my son's room — is 

(Severely.) {Going up behind settee.) Edward, I must 
really in common decency — — 

(Ann moves over to l. end of\settce.) 

Evangeline (furious). Don't ask him to explain ! 
It's absolutely outrageous — outrageous ! ! 

Ann. I think if I were engaged to a man. Miss 
Lipscomb, I should feel a bit like that myself. 

Mrs. Hargraves. Edward, have you no idea 
where those things came from ? 
{Ann places cushion behind her back, disclosing nighty.) 

Dean {snappishly). No reasonable explanation of 
their appearances ? 

Edward. None at all ! 



ANN. 5^ 

(Ann deliberately , without looking at it, moves night- 
dress farther down on to seat.) 

Mrs. Hargraves. Well, my dear boy, don't look 
so fearfully tragic. It's just some foolish joke ! 

Evangeline. Joke ! 

Ann {unearthing the nightdress and showing it). 
My ! ! ! ! 

Picture : 

(Dean holds nightdress by one end, Ann by the other, 
Edward sinks into chair c.) 

Evangeline {sternly, to Edward). Edward, you 
know what that is ? 

Dean {taking it from xAnn). It appears to be. • 

Mrs. Hargraves. It's a very lovely one ! 

Ann. Now, a nighty like that would cost at least 
thirty-five dollars. 

Evangeline. Well, I must say good-bye, Mrs. 
Hargraves. {Holding out her hand to Mrs. Har- 
graves.) 

Mrs. Hargraves. My dear Evangeline, don't be 
ridiculous ! Don't go ! 

Evangeline. I'm very, very sorr^-, but it's quite 

impossible for me to — to (To Edward) Oh, 

can't you see ? 

Edward {rises). But, hang it all — it isn't mine! 
I mean— I don't know where— — 

Dean. But surely you have some theory — this 
garment is Well, it is ! ! ! 

Billy {to Ann). What's your theory, Miss Ann 
ing ? 

Ann. Well, as a stranger, I don't know that I 
ought to say anything ; but it seems to me to be a 
very big tragedy for you, Mr. Hargraves. 

Edward {with suppressed rage). Oh, it's just some 
feeble — joke ! .Feeble ! Feeble ! {Turns up to win- 
doiv.) 



56 ANK. 

Evangeline. I can stand no more ! Edward has 
behaved abominably ; will you see me home ? 

BiLLT {going up to Evangeline). Well, I think I 
go your w^ay 

Evangeline {turning on him furiously). Will you 
kindly mind your own business ? 

Billy {qtidte crushed). Perhaps you're right. 

{Exit Billy quickly R.) 

Dean. My dear, I quite understand. {Coming 
down to R. corner with Evangeline. Bus. ivith 
nightdress.) 

Edward. Evangeline ! (Coming down c.) 

Evangeline. Don't dare to say a word to me — I 
couldn't bear it 

Edward. Vangy ! Look here, I 

Mrs. HARGRAVES(commg down r.c. — significantly). 
Edward — I wouldn't ! 

Evangeline. Good-bye, Mrs. Hargraves ; good- 
bye. Miss Arming — I trust you will at least keep my 
name out of even an American paper. 

Ann (l.c). I'll do my very best, Miss Lipscomb, 
but it's a fearful temptation. 

Evangeline. Thank you. 

Mrs. Hargraves. Need we be so serious about a 
thing Uke this ? 

Dean. My dear, much as I regret it, I must side 

with Evangeline until some {Puts nightdress on 

table behind him.) 

Mrs. Hargraves. I can only trust to your kind- 
ness to prevent this becoming public property. 

Ann. Certainly, if you wish it. 

Edward. Dad, do 3/ou beUeve this of me ? 

{The Dean glares at Edward.) 

Mrs. Hargraves {rather amused). He does, Ed- 
ward — a good man always does. 

{The Dean looks at her.) 



ANN. 57 

I said it, Samuel — a good man always does. 

(The Dean- is about to protest. Mrs. HarCxRAVes 
stops him.) 

And the better the man the worse he thinks. 

Dean. Well, upon my word ! Come, my dear • 

(Exeunt Dean, and Evangeline r.) 

Edward (to his mother) . Mater, you don't think 



Mrs. Hargraves (with a laugh). My dear boy, 
knowing you as long as I have, how could I think ! 
Edward, give Miss Anning some more tea. 

(Edward goes up and puts golf-stick in bag.) 

(To Ann.) And while you're interviewing my son, 
I'll just take these incriminating garments to my 
room. 

(Edward comes down behind c. to fender.) 

Ann (starts as if she was going to say something)- 
Mr. Hargraves, are you really in a fit condition to be 
interviewed ? 

Mrs. Hargraves (r.c). Of course he is. I hope 
you'll call on me again ; and, Miss Anning, don't 
tell him his novel is wonderful, because it isn't. 
Good-bye ! 

Ann (impulsively). Mrs. Hargraves, may I say 
just how much I like you ? 

Mrs. Hargraves. Thank you. 

Ann. Not one mother in a thousand would have 
behaved like you did. 

Mrs. Hargraves. Miss Anning, I've been a par- 
son's wife since — the flood ! But I'm still a woman 
of the world. (Going to door R.) Don't forget I 
want you to call on me. (At door.) I'm eighty- 
seven — up above ! 

(Exit Mrs. Hargraves door r.) 



58 ANN. 

{A pause. Edward is lookin<^ ajigrily irdo fire. Ann 
looks at him icith mock apprehension.) 

Ann (down r.). Guess you'll never want another 
American girl at your tea parties again ? 

Edward (turning). Your conduct is past criti- 



cism 



Ann (runs over to Chesterfield a7td sits on hack — R. 
end — with feet on the seat). Oh, Mr. Englishman, do 
please get really angry. 

Edward. I am angry — very angry ! 

Ann. I really don't wonder. 

Edward. To think that you, of all women, could 
stoop to do a 

Ann. Am I never to be forgiven ? (Hands to- 
gether.) 

Edward. You've shocked Evangeline. 

Ann. Wasn't it better for her to be shocked now 
than afterwards ? 

Edward. A nice, v/ell-spoken little girl like that — 
oh, it's abominable. 

Ann (clapping her hands). Mr. Englishman, you're 
just lovely when your beautiful pride has been injured. 

Edward. What do you mean ? 

Ann. You didn't mind last night about Evange- 
line when — ^when you were sitting right here. 

Edward. " Last night " ! I was mad last night ! 
Mad — mad ! (Crossing to c.) 

Ann. When daylight dawns, and everything be- 
comes unromantic, we just become self-conscious 
and afraid, don't we, Mr. Englishman ? (Getting 
off sofa.) 

Edward. Look here (marching over to Ann, 

z£;ho sits on chair down L.) It's all jolly line arguing, but 
those — those things of yours are extremely difficult 
to explain away. 

Ann (coolly). That's why I chose them. 

Edward. What am I to do ? What in Heaven's 
name am I to do ? (Crosses R. and up.) 



ANN. 59 

Ann. Why, do anything ? Your moral character 
is unassailable. 

Edward {coming down c). You leave my morals 
out of it ! 

Ann. Why try to explain them away ? 

Edward. But that won't help Evangeline. She'll 
never believe 

Ann. Didn't I tell you she'd be ignorantly shocked ? 

Edward. You can't deny she had some reason ? 

Ann (significantly). Your mother only laughed! 
{Rises, comes c.) 

Edward {turns and stares at her). So she did ! 

Ann. And I thought your mother was about the 
only person who counted. 

Edward. Oh, it's no good argunig — you've got 
me into a hole ^^^^ 

Ann {interrupting quickly). And got you out of 
another one. /<p 

Edward. Then last night you talked a lot of / . 2_.^A 

Ann {interrupting). I think yon*fe very ungrate- \ CjJ^ 

Edward. I'm not ungrateful. {Down l.) 

Ann. I've lost a pair of silk stockings, {cross up R.) 
a beautiful shirt-waist, a pair of lovely bedroom slip- 
pers and a perfectly adorable ■ {Coming over L.c. 

close to Edward.) 

Edward. Don't mention it ! I forbid you to 
mention it ! 

Ann. Why, everybody wears one — even you. 
{Going a little R.) {Chuckling.) And flannelette at 
that i 

Edward. I don't. I bought a pair of silk pyja- 
mas this afternoon. 

Ann. Pink or blue ? 

Edward. It's beside the point. 

Ann. Not to mention the splenchd copy I can't 
use. 

Edward. I believe you did it just for the sake of 
copy ! 



7,7 



60 ANN. 

Ann. Mr. Englishman, don't be unkind. {Turn- 
ing R.C.) 

Edward (coming tip to her). I wish I'd never seen 
you. Whoever heard of a girl coming into a man's 
family, over the fire-escape, and causing such a lot of 
trouble ? 

Ann. Why don't you tell them the things belong 
to me ? 

Edward. You know I can't ! 

Ann (innocently). W^hy ? 

Edward. " Why ? Why ? " Oh, don't be silly ! 
(Goes over to l.) 

Ann. Suppose I tell them ? 

Edward. Now look here, you jolly well leave 
things alone. They're bad enough as the}" are. 

Ann. Very well; but it's bad luck I can't get 
back the — 

(Edward gives her a look.) 

— the thing vou don't like mentioned. It'll spoil the 
set ! 

EdW'ARD. Set ! ! ! W^ll, you'll have to wear odd 
ones — it's your own fault. 

Ann (primly). I think I'll be going. (Marches 
up to window R.) 

Edward. Xo, you don't. 

(Edward walks quickly up to Ann, seizes her by left 
-wrist and drags her well down r.c. Then swings he f 
round, so that they are quite close — face to face.) 

And look here, I 

Ann. You're not going to say you never want to 
see me again ? 

Edward. That's precisely what I was going to 

say ! 

(Ann puts Jier face close up to his.) 

Precisely. (Going l.c.) 
Ann (going over close to him. He has his hack to 



ANN. er 

her). Don't you want a ftve and a half dollar bottle 
of that perfume ? 
Edward. No ! 

Ann (same inflection). Oh ! Very well. Good- 
bye. 

Edward. Good-bye. 

(Ann walks across to door r. Slams door hard, remain- 
ing just inside. Edward sighs and crosses slowly 
to L. Ann follows on tip-toe.) 

Ann (suddenly, pushing Edward in the hack). 
D'you know something ? 

(Edward jumps round. Ann springs on settee:. 
Edward rushes up to her. She holds cushion in 
front of her.) 

Edward (after Bus.). No, I don't want to hear 
anything more. 

Ann. Then you'll just have to ! (Sits on arm of 
settee.) 

Edward. Oh, well, if I must, I must ! (Down 

L.) 

Ann. Listen. To-night you'll want to see me 
more than you've ever wanted to see anything before 
in your life. 

Edward. I shall do nothing of the sort. 

Ann. You'll sit in this lovely old sofa, and you'll 
see me in the tire, and you'll get a whift of that five 
and a half dollar scent, and you'll just feel mad 

Edward. Have you finished ? 

(Warn Curtain.) 

Ann (promptly). No. You'll sit here, just where 
we sat, and you'll hate yourself for being a coward, 
and you'll try to think of Evangeline — and you won't 
be able to, because she's unthinkable — and you'll get 
fidgetier and fidgetier than just anything, and in the 
morning you'll have big purple indigo blues, and your 



62 ANN. 

mother will laugh at you, and you'll just be the most 
miserable limp understudy of your magnificent moral 
self, and it will do you all the good in the world ; and 
later on you'll tell me I was right. 

Edward. I shan't ; I shall never tell you anything 
again. 

Ann. Oh, yes, you wih. {Gets off Chesterfield 
and comes down to Edward.) X man always tells 
that sort of thing to the girl he's going to marry. 
{Crosses to c.) 

Edward {turning round and going toivards her a 
step). What do you mean ? 

Ai^]^ {cheekily). Nothing. Good-bye. {Waves her 
hand. Up to window — tlien stops and turns and comes 
down c.) No ! After successfully introducing her- 
self into Clerical English family, propriety demands 
of American Ann, conventional exit through door. 

{Exit Ann quickly, r.) 

(Edw^\rd collapses on Chesterfield, looking after her) 

(Curtain.) 
(End of Act II.) 



ACT III 

Scene. — The saivie as Acts I and II. 

Time . — -Even ing . 

Fire lighted. A reading-la?np lighted on Edward's 
desk. Standard lamp lighted. 

At vise of curtain, Edward discovered busily writing. 
He rises with a loose sheet of MSS. which he reads 
over to hifnself out load.) 

Edw^'VRD. " There was a long silence. He in' 
haled the subtle scent of her hair. His pulse-beat 
quickened ; he hardly dared to breathe lest some slight 
movement on ,his part should suggest a re-adjustment 

of their positions " {Down to settee — to himself.) 

That's not quite it. No • (Thinks, walks o; 

settee, sits and smells sofa-cushions for further inspira- 
tion.) ''' A re-adjustment of jtheir positions " ( W itli 

a sudden idea.) I know ! 

(He jumps up and starts writing again. Enter the 
Dean and Billy r. Dean crosses over to l. corner.) 

Dear old dad ! (To Billy.) Hullo, old man ! 
Billy (depressed). Hullo, old man ! 
Dean (severely). Edward ! 

(Edward does not hear. Billy rather apprehensively 
gets close to Edward.) 

(Loudly.) Edward ! ! 

63 



64 ANN. 

(Billy jogs Edward's elhow. He rises. Both 
stand up stage c.) 

Now, Edward, as there are only men in the room, 
perhaps you will explain matters. 

Edward {comes down c). My dear dad, I have 
nothing to explain. 

Dean. I should say, judging by the number and 
appearance of the articles brought to light at such an 
inopportune time, that you had a good deal to explain. 

Billy (coming down c. and speaking uncomfort- 
ably). Give me a cigarette, Edward. 

(Edward takes out cigarette case.) 

Dean. Edward ! 

(Billy is taking cigarette.) 

{Loudly and sternly.) Edward ! Attend to me ! 

{Both men jump. Edward turns round, holding case 
behind his back. Billy takes case, takes out a 
cigarette and returns case to Edward's hand, still 
outstretched behind his back. Billy lights cigarette 
and.retires a little up stage, smoking.) 

I have done my best to — to put a kinder complexion 
upon the affair for Evangehne's sake, but my task 
has been indeed a hard one under the overwhelming 
burden of evidence before me. 

Edward (c). I repeat I have nothing to say by 
^way of explanation. If you or Evangeline choose to 
judge me by appearances, dad, why then you must. 

Dean. You mean to tell me you have no idea how 
those — h'm — intimate feminine garments got into 
your room ? 

Edward. I may have ideas, but — I keep them to 
myself. 

Dean {a little more indulgently). Edward, I may 
be a Dean, but in this instance I must judge you as a 
man of the world ; and as a man of the world, there 
is only one possible explanation 



ANN. 66 

Edward. And I suppose the usual man of the 
world's excuse. 

Dean. Exactly ! I mean — certainly not ! 

Edward (getting nettled). Look here, dad, leave 
the man of the world out of it and judge me as the 
Dean. 

(Billy shakes his head and saunters down io r. of 
Edward.) 

Dean (wrathfully) . Very well — I will ! 

Billy (r. of Edward)." I should stick to the man 
of the world, Edward. 

Edward. I prefer dad to stick to his own pro- 
fession. 

(Billy shrugs his shoulders and retires up stage again, 
picking up a hook from table R.) 

(To Dean.) Now, sir. (Down c.) 

Dean (finding it somewhat difficult to attack as the 
Dean). Can't we — can't you offer some 

Edward (interposing). I've told you, sir, I cannot. 
I don't know how the things got here. 

Dean. Evangeline is wilhng to accept any reason- 
able explanation. 

Edward^ I have no explanation to offer. 

n&AN. I even think, in time, she may reconsider 
the possibility of renewing her engagement. 

Edward. I certainly shall never renew my offer. 
' Dean. You mean, sir ? (Up to Edward.) 

Edward. I mean this, sir : it was to please you 
and the mater I proposed to her. Evangeline wasn't 
in love with me and I wasn't in love with her. Per- 
haps that excuses her, but would any one else con- 
demn me as she did ? Did the mater ? Did Miss 
Anning ? Do you, Billy ? 

Billy (6m ^/y). Oh, no, / don't, old man ! (Turns 
up to window and resumes reading.) 

E 



66 ANN. 

Edward. It's left to my father and the girl I'm 
supposed to marry. 

Dean (softening). Come, come. Edward, you must 
remember the shock to a young girl's feelings that 
the unconventional appearance of such garments 
would produce, under the circumstances 

Edward. Good Heavens, why ; if I knew nothing!? 

Dean. You don't even suspect any one of playing 
a very foolish practical joke ? 

Edward. * I may suspect ^but it's outside the 
point. 

Billy (coming down r.c.^. But why not expose 
the joker and regain your own lost moral character ? 

Edward. Oh, dry up ! 

Billy. Certainly, old man — certainly. (Retires 
up again.) 

Dean. What possible motive ? (Sits on 

settee, arranges cushions. He sniffs.) God bless my 
soul, what a very remarkable thing — I — — 

Edward (self-consciously). What is the matter? 

Dean (taking up cushion and smelling it methodic- 
ally). Yes, it is — no — yes, it must be ! 

JBiLLY. What is it, sir ? 

Dean. Edward, I think I have discovered a clue. 

Edward. A clue ? 

Dean. There is a distinct resemblance in the 
aroma of this cushion to the aroma that pervaded 
those — those vestments your mother has taken 
upstairs. 

Edward {very nervously) . Oh, nonsense, dad * 

Dean (smelling cushion). Yes, distinct. I have 
a very keen sense of smell, Edward, as you know ; 
and this evening when your mother and I were search- 
ing for a possible name on the night — the raiment in 
question, I noticed this peculiarly dehcious — I mean, 
pungent odour. 

Edward (c). Now look here, dad. why not let 
the matter drop ? 

Dean. Drop— with a clue like this ? (Rises. 



ANN. 67 

Doii'fi L. a step.) No, sir ; it shall never be said I left 
a stone unturned to clear my son's moral character. 
(Goins[ towards door with cushion.) I shall take this 

and compare it with^ (Over R. He stops suddenly.) 

Edward ! 

Edward. Dad ! 

Dean. You have perverted the truth. You do 
know who left those things here^she's living in this 
hotel. 

Edward. My dear old dad, what — — • 

Dean (tragically smelling cushion). It's not the 
hair-wash. It's that American girl. I noticed it 
on my hand after shaking hands with her. 

Billy (coming down r. of Dean). Still, you know, 
sir, you're not absolutely certain. 

Dean (loudly). " Certain ! " 

(Billy retires up to window seat in great confusion.) 

I am perfectly certain. (To Edward.) And you 
can't deny it. 

Edward. I do deny it. 

Dean. You prevaricate, sir — my nose tells me 
you prevaricate. 

Edward. I deny that Miss Anning — dash it all, 
governor, suppose she does use the same scent — what 
of it? 

Dean. I shall reserve my judgment, Edward — I 
may be wrong. My nose may have misled me — I 
trust it has. If I have wronged you and this young 
woman, I am deeply grieved; if you have compro- 
mised any one, I trust you will act as my son — -as a 
gentleman would act. (Bus. wu'th cushion.) 

(Exit Dean r. with cushion.) 

(Edward strolls over to l. corner.) 

Billy (to Edward). Well, old man, what's the 
next move ? 

Edw^\rd (looking at him). Hanged if I know ! 



68 ANN. 

Billy. I say, Teddy, was he right ? 
Edward [shortly). No ! 

(Edw^\rd sees parcel and note on chair l. comer.) 

By Jove ! What's this ! 

Billy. What's what ? 

Edward. A note from the mater, [Re opens it, 
coming l.c.) " My dear boy, you'd better return these 
things. You might have trusted me — you've known 
me long enough. Your loving mother." 

Billy. What a splendid mother ! {Goes over to 
Edward.) Why don't you own up, Teddy ? I've 
known you long enough. 

Edward. You wouldn't beheve me if I did. 

Billy (seriously). My dear old chap, I'd believe 
anything you told me — we've always been such old 
pals. I know at Cambridge you were a fearful old 
anchorite and all that sort of thing ; but hang it all, 
what earthly harm is there in owning up to a few 
high-class wild oats ? 

Edward [turning fiercely on Billy). Damn it ! 
They weren't wild oats ! Does she look like wild 
oats ? 

(Billy, alarmed, hacks away to c.) 

Billy. You don't mean it's Httle Miss — What's- 
her-name ? 

Edward [curtly). Yes. 

Billy. Great' Scott ! What luck ! 

Edward [l.c— fiercely). What the devil d'you 
mean by " luck " ? 

[Both c.) 

Billy. Nothing, old chap — nothing ! Of course 
she couldn't — ^I mean, why did she leave 'em here ? 

Edward (l.). I didn't ! Well, hang it all, 

last night, somehow or other, it came out I'd got en- 
gaged to Evangeline over the 'phone ; well, she lee- 



ANN. 69 

tured me, and wormed out the fact that I didn't love 
EvangeUne — said it was impossible. 

Billy {sitting on arm of chair c. during preceding 
speech). Well? 

Edward. Well, she ended by swearing she'd stop 
it ; of course, I thought it was all chaff, but you see- 
well — she wanted to choke Evangeline off me. 

Billy {after slight pause). Well, she's done that all 
right, old chap ! And she'll make a wife in ten thou- 
sand. 

EdWxVRD. You don't imagine I'm going to 

Billy. I don't see how you can help it. Any 
common or garden knight would do as much for his 
lady fair. 

Edward {crossing to r.c). Don't be absurd. I 
hardly know the girl — it's absurd. 

Billy. Edward, some of the biggest acts of genius 
have been performed in the space of a single instant. 

Edward {miserably). I've told her I never want 
to see her again. 

Billy {irritated at his stupidity). Good Lord, what 
did you do an asinine thing hke that for ? 

Edward {seated in chair c). I insulted her and 
made a perfect fool of myself — she'll never forgive me. 

Billy. Look here, old man, this room's too small 
for you. You'd better come out for a stroll. {Up to 
Edward.) 

Edward {looking at the window). No, no, I 

Billy. Come on out and have a drink. You'll 
only get the blues if you stop in. 

Edward {turning his head and looking at Billy). 
The blues ? {Struck by the word.) 

Billy. Yes, the blues ! 

Edward {to Billy). Yes, she said I -should get 
the blues.' 

Billy. Well, she was right. Come along out, 
and we'll fix things up in the morning. {Crosses to 
door R.) 

Edward {with another look at unndow). Room's 



70 ANN. 

stuffy — I'll just open the window. {Goes up to 
window, opens it and looks out.) 

Billy {hy the door). No, she won't, Teddy ! Not 
again to-night ! 

Edward. Yes, I think I could do with a drink. 

{Enter Mrs. Hargraves r.) 

Mrs. Hargraves. Hullo, Billy ! 

Billy. Hullo, Mrs. Hargraves ! 

Mrs. Hargraves. Well, Edward, did you get my 
note ? 

Edward. Yes, mater. 

Mrs. Hargraves. Are you going out ? 

Edward. Yes, ten minutes drink — er — er — stroll, 
just round the corner. 

{Exeunt Edward and Billy r.) 

(Mrs. Hargraves goes up to shut window. Ann 
appears at window.) 

Mrs. Hargraves {genuinely surprised, hut relieved)' 
Miss Anning ? Good Heavens ! 

{Enter Ann through window.) 

Ann. Good-evening, Mrs. Hargraves. {Smiling 
whimsically.) 

Mrs. Hargraves {laughing). Dear me, what a 
fright you gave me. I thought you were a burglar. 

Ann. I'm so awfully sorry. 

Mrs. Hargraves. How on earth did you 

Ann. I just came along the fire-escape. 

Mrs. Hargraves. There— I told Edward they 
were dangerous. 

Ann {smiling).- I wonder if they are. 

Mrs. Hargraves. But what on earth made you ■ 

(She stops as a sudden idea strikes her.) 

Ann. It's really easier from the next flat. 

Mrs. Hargraves {now both amused and interested). 
Is it ? ■ 



ANN. 71 

Ann. Mrs. Hargraves, it's not the first time I've 
braved the dangers of that tire-escape. . 

Mrs. Hargraves {under standingly) . Oh ! 

Ann. I came in last night. 

Mrs. Hargraves. Last night ? 

Ann. After you'd gone to bed. 

Mrs. Hargraves. What in the world did Edward 
say ? 

Ann. He was a little surprised, I think. 

Mrs. Hargraves. A httle ! My poor dear son 
must have been paralysed. [Sits c.) 

Ann. I rather expected he would be. 

Mrs. Hargraves. Why ? 

Ann. I'd read his book. 

Mrs. Hargraves. Oh, of course 

Ann. I wonder why he didn't consult you? 
{Kneels at chair R. of Mrs. Hargraves.) 

Mrs. Hargraves. How do you know he didn't ? 

Ann. He couldn't possibly have made such mis- 
takes. 

Mrs. Hargraves. Hes very, very young. 

Ann. I think he's just the youngest thing I've 
ever met. 

Mrs. Hargraves. My dear, he's been a v^?ry 
grave anxiety. 

Ann. He must have been. 

Mrs. Hargraves. You see, as a parson's wife, I 
was so handicapped. 

Ann. Exacth^ 

Mrs. Hargraves. And now, through this absurd 
episode, I can't even get him safely married. 

Ann. Of course, one feels sorry for poor Miss 
Lipscomb, but 

Mrs. Hargraves. " Sorry " ? I'm not at all 
sorry for her. Why should she jump to conclusions ? 
A girl brought up in a Cathedral Town, too ! 

Ann. That must be the limit. 

Mrs. Hargraves. Of course, as Edward's mother, 
I was convulsed with the joke. 



72 ANN. 

Ann (eagedy). You do think it was quite harm- 
less ? 

Mrs. Hargraves (shrewdly). Yes, of course. 

Ann (nervously). It wasn't exactly on the level. 

Mrs. Hargraves. I wouldn't have missed it for 
worlds, and I'm not at all sure I shall mind if Evange- 
line never recovers from the shock. 

Ann. Why ? 

Mrs. Hargraves. Because I feel sure I can never 
let him marry a woman so utterly lacking in humour. 

Ann (embracing her suddenly). Oh, I'm so glad. 

(Ann begins to cry softly. Mrs. Hargraves bends 
over her.) 

Mrs. Hargraves. My dear, what on earth's the 
matter ? 

Ann. You're the matter ! You're just the loveU- 
est thing I've ever met. (Slight pause.) I wonder 
why you married a parson ! 

Mrs. Hargraves. Every woman has her responsi- 
bilities. He is my m.ost adorable responsibility — • 
after my boy. 

Ann (nervously — rising and going down R. a little). 
Mrs. Hargraves — I've got to teU you something. 
Those — those — (pointing to her belongings) those 
things are mine ! 

Mrs. Hargraves (after a slight pause, and with quiet 
good-humour). I know. 

Ann. You know ? 

Mrs. Hargraves. Yes, I've known all the time. 

Ann. But how ? 

Mrs. Hargraves (smiling). The favourite scent ! 

Ann (smiling). I wondered if I'd put enough 

Mrs. Hargraves {mock horror) , Enough ? Enough 
to sink a nation ! You wanted me to know ? (Rises 
and goes to her.) 

Ann (surprised that she should doubt). Why, of 
course. Oh, wasn't it a perfectly lovely idea ? 



ANN. 73' 

Mrs.'Hargraves. Rather unusually daring ; but 
why did you do it ? 

Ann. I did so want to get Edward out of that 
awful engagement. {Crossing l.) 

Mrs. Hargraves. But how could you ? 

Ann (at l. arm of settee). Last night I got it ail out 
of him, and when I heard she'd accepted him over the 
'phone, that just finished me. 

Mrs. Hargraves. I'm afraid I agree with you. 

Ann. I told him a girl who'd miss such a lovely 
moment over an old 'phone would make his life a — ■ 
well, you know what. 

Mrs. Hargraves. Yes, I know what ; I quite 
understand. But why are you so interested in my 
boy ? {Sits on Chesterfield.) 

Ann {kneels l. of Mrs. Hargraves). I wanted to 
know if your son was as white as the soul of his own 
book. 

Mrs. Hargraves. And you found ? 

Ann. I found what was better ; a child's soul 
Vv^ith a human understanding. 

Mrs. Hargraves. A child's soul in a man's body ! 

Ann. That's why I love your son, Mrs. Hargraves. 
I fell in love with the writer of the story — then I dis- 
covered he lived here and I fell in love with the real 
man. 

Mrs. Hargraves. By the way dear, how chd you 
get to know him ? 

Ann {ze)ith a little hurst of laughter) . I had to fall out 
of a punt to introduce myself. 

Mrs. Hargraves. I wonder if he'll ever love you ? 

Ann {pleadingly). Don't wonder — he does. 

Mrs. Hargraves, I wonder if he knows ? 

Ann. Not yet. 



{Enter Dean r. He carries the cushion ii)ith both hands 
and is lo-. 
sees Ann 



and is looking extremely worried. He starts as he 



74 ANN. 

Ann. Good-evening, Mr. Dean. {Rises, crosses 
to Dean.) 

Mrs. Hargraves {rises). My dear Samuel, what 
on earth are you doing with that cushion ? 

Dean (r.). I have {ignoring Ann) discovered a 
clue. 

Mrs. Hargraves {seeing lahat has happened, takes 
things off chair). You've not said .e^ood-evening to 
Miss Anning. 

Dean. Much as I regret it, I do not see lit to 
address Miss Anning. 

Mrs. Hargraves. Why ? 

Dean {sternly). "Why"? My dear! {He 
pauses.) No {To Ann.) I will say — " good- 
evening." 

Ann {unth a beaming smile, shakes cushion). Good- 
evening, Mr. Dean. I've just been telling Mrs. Har- 
graves how wonderfully clever I think your son is. 

Dean {stiffly). You're very good. But what I 
was about to say 

Ann. He's just the nicest boy I've met for years. 

Dean. H'm — yes, no doubt, but 

Mrs. Hargraves. My dear Sarnuel, I do wish 
you'd put that cushion down. 

(Ann goes np stage a little.) 

Dean. But, my dear, I have come here expressly 
to speak about this cushion. 

Mrs. Hargraves {rising). My dear -Samuel, I 
have something to tell you of the greatest importance. 

Dean. But this is important ! 

Mrs. Hargraves. You can talk to me later about 
the cushion. 

Ann (coming down suddenly). Oh, give her that 
cushion. {Takes cushion and gives it to Mrs. Har- 
graves.) Mrs. Hargraves— I'd better be going, (c.) 

Dean. Quite so, quite so. 



ANN. 75 

Mrs. Hargraves. Xo, my dear, please don't go. 
Wait for Edward, and when you've seen him, I want 
you to bring him up to see us. (Kissing her.) 

Dean. My dear, I don't think 3^ou quite appreciate 
who it is you are embracing ! 

Mrs. Hargraves. Come, Samuel. {Crosses to r.) 

Ann. Mrs. Hargraves, I think I'd like to have just 
a little talk with Mr. Hargraves alone. 

Dean (horrified). Alone/ (Emphatically.) Cer- 
tainly not ! 

Mrs. Hargraves (going to door) . A most excellent 
idea. (To Ann.) You'll bring Edward upstairs when 
you've 

Dean (interrupting). \'ery well, my dear, I will 
talk to this young person alone. 

Ann. Oh, my gracious — ^don't you dare to call me 
a young person. (To Mrs. Hargraves.) That is 
just one expression I won't stand. (To Dean.) No, 
sir, not even from you. (Goes c.) 

Mrs. Hargraves (smiling). Don't let her keep 
you too long, Samson — er — Samuel ! (Laughing 
over her own error.) 

Dean. Certainly not — certainly not- ! What 

I have to say I shall put briefly. 

Mrs. Hargraves. Ah, you don't know her, you 
don't know her ! 

(Exit Mrs. Hargraves, laughing.) 

(A pause. The Dean draivs himself up stiffly.) 

Dean (pompously). Now, Miss Anning ! 

Ann (coolly). Didn't you understand it was I who 
asked you for an interview ? 

Dean (much taken aback). Good gracious ! 

Ann (laughing). Oh, you are such a perfectly 
adorable old darling. Do you know when I first saw 
you, I just loved you right away ! (Hand on his arm.) 

Dean (taking hand off). Now it must be distinctly 



76 ANN. 

understood that I cannot perniit myself to be 
wheedled ! 

Ann. What a pity. 

Dean. A pity ? 

Ann {ptitting her arm through his). I'm just too 
cute for anything at wheedUng. 

Dean {removing her arm again). You — you — 
mustn't do it ! 

Ann. Do sit down ! {Drags him. to chair c. and 
pushes him into it.) 

Dean {nervously). This is not the way I had in- 
tended to conduct this interview. {Rises.) 

Ann. Do sit down and look cosy. {Sits him down 
again.) 

Dean. But I don't feel cosy. {Rises.) 

Ann. I'll soon fix that. {Sits him down again 
and places cushion at his back.) 

Dean {sitting). Well, perhaps, for a few brief 
moments. 

Ann. Now listen ! {Hand on his shoiilder.) 

Dean. My dear Miss — ^Miss — — {Taking hand 
off.) Thank you ! 

Ann. Have you ever thought how 'twould be to 
have a very affectionate little daughter ? {Hand on 
his shoulder.) 

Dean {removing her hand again.) I've already told 
you I cannot permit it. 

Ann. Oh, I forgot. You never had a little 
daughter of your own ; I feel so sorry for you. 

Dean {rather sadly). Yes, yes ; if we had been 
blessed, but— — 
A/'^JC/' /' Ann {very sweetly). Shall I show you how it is 
r IjV- y ^^^^ ^^ have a little daughter ? "Z^'"^ 

^ ^' Dean {absent-mindedly). Yes — yes — I mean, cer- 

tainly not f 

Ann {at back of his chair — arms round his neck). 
How 'twould be to be bulUed (bus.) and loved (bus.) 
by me in just the most lovely way. 

Dean. This is not fair play. 



ANN. 



77 



Ann. Yes, it is. {Kisses him.) 

Dean (completely staggered). Now she's kissed 
me ! 

Ann. Of course, and she's going to do it again 
and again — until a nasty, frumpy, wicked, dear, 
dearer, dearest, sweet old darling Dean smiles just 
evermore ! {Goes down l.) 

Dean. You know this is not the way Deans are 
treated. 

Ann. Yes, it is. Now smile ! 

Dean (emphatically). I shall not smile ! 

(Bus. Dean catches Ann's eye, and smiles; looks 
stern immediately, then smiles a second time.) 

Ann (as Dean smiles the second time). Oh, you 
wicked old story — you are smiling ! 

Dean (trying to excuse himself). Well, for a few 
brief moments, perhaps. I was thinking of a funny 
little story I read in the "Athenaeum" ! 

Ann. Now laugh ! 

Dean (completely breaking up, and laughing heartily). 
I shall — certainly — not — laugh ! Ha, ha, ha, ha ! ! 

(Ann runs up to Dean, takes him by both hands, pulls 
him up and round to l.c. Both laughing heartily. 
The laugh is worked up. The Dean quite suddenly 
stops short, and pulls himself together. When he 
stops, Ann stops at the same time.) 

Humph ! (Pause.) And I actually took you for one 
of the foolish virgins ! 

Ann. My gracious me, you never mean to say you 
thought that ? 

Dean (as if lecturing a naughty child). And you've 
turned out a positive Delilah ! 

Ann. Well, maybe. 

Dean. This was a most unseemly proceeding. 

Ann. (demurely). Was it ? 

Dean. Most ! You know, that kiss ! If my dear 
wife ! 



78 ANN. 

Ann. Tell me, have you ever studied my sex ? 

Dean. Not often ! — er — I mean only once, my 
dear wife ! 

Ann (shaking her head). You tried, but all the time 
she has just been studying you. That's what always 
happens with a really beautiful character — ^like Mrs. 
Hargraves. 

Dean. H'm — yes — perhaps you're right. 

Ann. Don't you think she knows best what you 
want ? {Both her hands on his shoulders.) 

Dean. Yes — yes — we will consult her together. 

(Ann puts her arm through his and they walk over r.c.) 
Ann [as they cross). I would — right now ! 
{War}i lights.) 

Dean (r.c. — utterly binder her spell) . But, you know, 
you wheedled me ! 

Ann (smiling). Yes. I wheedled you. 

Dean. You deliberately made love to me — yes, to 
me. 

Ann (very sweetly). Ah, nobody can m.ake love — ■ 
love just makes itself. 

Dean. I wonder ! 

Ann. You ask Mrs. Hargraves — she knows just 
everything. 

Dean. Yes, I will consult my dear wife. (Goes 
to door R.) 

Ann. And I'll just stay here and consult your dear 
,boy ! (Goes c.) 

(Dean returns to r.c. Holds out both hands. Ann 
returns and takes them.) 

Dean. And you really love him ? 

(Ann bo7.ts her head.) 

Bless vou. mv dear ! 



ANN. 79 

(Dean kisses Jier head. Then he notices the perfume.) 
Delicious ! Delicious ! 

{Exit Dean r.) 

{After DEx\n's exit. Ann kisses her hand towards door R., 
then ogives a well-cmitented si^h and goes over to chair 
L. She picks up the nightdress. Telephone hell 
rin^s, and continues ringing until she takes receiver 
off.) 

Ann {fyoin^4 uh to telephone). All right, all right, 
I'm coming ! {S]ie takes up receiver.) Yes, — who — • 

Miss ^Lipscomb ! Evanereline ! American Ann, 

you're no coward ! {Into * phone.) Yes, send her 
ris^ht up in the elevator. {Puts receiver down.) 
{Begins to take her hair down.) Mav as w^ell give her 
a ,e:ood shock while I'm about it ! 

{She takes her hair down and ties it up with ribbon, 
crosses to door, turns out light and opens door a little 
way, then curls up on Chesterfield.) 

{On Qhesterfield — solemnly). " Papa, potatoes, poul- 
try, prunes and prisms ! [Repeats in a half -whisper .) 
Papa, potatoes, poultry, prunes and prisms ! 

{Enter Evangeline r. She comes in, quickly closing 
the door behind her. She looks round, surprised at 
the darkness and then comes to c.) 

Evangeline. Mrs. Hargraves ! 

Ann {hutting her head up suddenly). Hallo ! 

Evangeline (c.). Oh ! {Startled.) 

Ann {cheerfully). Good-evening, Miss Lipscomb ! 

Evangeline. Oh ! 

(Evangeline turns to leave the room, but Ann gets 
to the door first.) 

Ann {ai door, and switching on light). Coward! 
{Mock dramatic.) 



80 ANN. 

Evangeline. Oh, oh ! {Recoiling.) You horrid 
woman ! 

Ann {beaming). And I thought I looked perfectly 
fascinating. 

Evangeline. What are you doing here ? And 
with your hair down ! ! 

Ann. What are you doing here ? And with your 
hair up ! ! 

Evangeline. Alone ! 

Ann. Unchaperoned ! ! 

Evangeline. I see ! It was you then who left 
those things here ? 

Ann {smiling) . I did it to see if I could shock you — ■ 
I succeeded. 

Evangeline. Then you are a- — a- — one of thos^ 
awful 

Ann. No, I'm not — but I'd rather be as human as 
" one of those awful " — than you I See ? {Crosses 
to L.) 

Evangeline {shocked). Oh ! Oh ! 

Ann. It's the second time to-day, Miss Lips- 
comb, you arrived at the wrong conclusion. 

Evangeline. But^ {Coming down c.) 

Ann {going up to her). There are no " buts " ! 
You're a horrid little prude ! A narrow-minded, 
nasty-minded, httle prude ! {Up to Evangeline.) 

Evangeline. How dare you say that ? You • 

Ann {sweetly). Oh, I beg your pardon. It's very 
likely not your own fault. {Fiercely.) But you 
needn't have a nasty imagination about the dear 
baby you got engaged to over the 'phone. 

Evangeline. He told you that ! 

Ann {turning away to l.). He couldn't help him- 
self — 3ven in your prim little hands, he simply 
couldn't help himself. {Sits on l. arm of Chesterfield.) 

Evangeline. You're a horrid little cat. 

Ann. Miaow ! (Bus.) Cats is wise ! {Sitting 
down.) So you find it so difficult to marry, you've 
come round to steal the dear babe again ? 



ANN. 81 

Evangeline. Pray how long have yow known 
him ? (Front of chair c.) 

Ann. Ever since yesterday. Long enough to pre- 
vent him ruining his life. 

Evangeline (sneer ingly) . How on earth can two 
people fall in love in a day ? 

Ann. Yes, you are just the sort of girl who'd take 
love out of eternity and tie it up in a parcel. Can't 
you see you're impossible ? 
Evangeline. Impossible ? 
Ann. Except as a curate's wife. 

Evangeline (heatedly). I hate and detest 

(correcting herself.) I mean, I have a natural anti- 
pathy to curates. 

A^'H (thoughtfully) . Is that so? (Conies doimi i.. — 
half to herself.) Seems I'll have to give you some 
chance after all. 

Evangeline. Give me What d'you mean ? 

Ann. If I don't you'll never get a look in. (Up 
to her.) 

Evangeline (haughtily). Indeed ! 
Ann. See here — you don't love him, and he doesn't 
love you ; but he loves a mighty big proposition full 
of magic. (Going down l.) And even you might 
sprout in sandy soil. 

Evangeline. Sprout ! (Strong.) 
Ann (■whimsically) . I suppose I'll have to risk it. 
(Comes back l.c.) Listen. Sit down. (Sits her in 
chair.) 

Evangeline (resenting it) . Don't touch me, please ! 
Ann (sitting on r. arm of Chesterfield, facing Evange- 
line). Listen ! Edward Hargraves has a power of 
loving he's just been sitting on. He's not frittered 
it away hke lots of men. When the lid's off, there's 
going to be trouble or bhss for the girl who removes 
that lid. I w^as going to do it to-night, but I'll give 
you the first chance. 

Evangeline. I — I — don't understand 

Ann (sharply). Yes, you do ; because you're show- 



82 ANN. 

ing the Rr^t primitive selfish symptom of love — ■ 
jealousy. 

Evangeline. I'm not jealous ! 

Ann. Yes, you are ; but only because you don't 
know what love really means. If you don't take this 
chance you'll never get another. 

Evangeline. How do you know ? 

Ann. Because to-night Edward Hargraves is going 
to hnd the key to his own particular personaHty. And 
one of us is going to hand him that key, when the 
lid's off. {Rising and going down l.) 

Evangeline {hesitates). 'l— I really fail to follow 
you. 

Ann. See here— I'll help you all I can. {Gets 
nighty from chair l.) Put on this. {Advancing to 
Evangeline.) 

Evangeline. Put on {Rising and retreating 

over to R.) 

Ann. Dress the part my way ! 

Evangeline. Never ! How dare 3-ou suggest — — ? 

Ann. Oh, how were you brought up ? 

Evangeline. " Brought up" ? What do you 
mean ? 

Ann. Afraid of wearing a nighty over a party 
gown. {Laughing.) 

Evangeline. It's not that— it's the idea ! 

Ann. It's just too funny for words. Especially 
when the party gown isn't half proper enough for a 
moral little model hke yourself. 

Evangeline. How dare you say that ! It's a 
very sm_art gown ! 

Ann. Oh, it's smart — it's too smart. You'd 
have twice the chance if you wore something quite 
proper-like. 

Evangeline. Never ! 

Ann. Very well, then. Remember you're taking 
big risks. (Bus.) Nice nighty ! 

Evangeline. But whv use such an indelicate 
method ? 



ANN. 83 

Ann. To-day you let him see you were scared at a 
nighty. Show him to-night you aren't really shocked 
— make fun of it.. Let him see you have got a sense of 
humour. Maybe you'll have a chance ! 

Evangeline. What am I to do ? 

Ann (with a chuckle) . Let your hair down . [Makes 
a grab at Evangeline's hair and lets it do'wn.) 

Evangeline. Let my hair down ? No ! Leave 
my hair alone, Miss Anning. How can you- ? 

Ann. Be quick. Why, you've got lovely hair. 
Now put on this ! 

(Evangeline hesitates.) 

If you don't, I will. 

Evangeline. Oh ! [Slips it on.) 

A^nn. Why, you look perfectly sweet ! 

Evangeline [miserably). Yes, I dare say. But I 
don't like it, Miss Anning. I don't like it at all. 
Supposing somebody should come [etc., etc., etc.) 

Ann [as soon as nightdress is on.) Nov/, come along 
over here. 

(Ann seizes Evangeline by both hands and drags her 
across to Chesterfield and [her on to it.) 

Now put your feet up ! Ciirl up there ? 

(Evangeline' ^Of^s so, under protest. Ann rushes across 
to door R.) 

I'll just listen. [Listens at door.) I think there's 
somebody coming. 

(During the following lines, Evangeline is getting 
more and more nervous and hysterical.) 

Evangeline. Oh, no, no, no ! I don't want any- 
body to come. Don't let any one come ! 
Ann (slily). Probably Edward ! 

Evangeline. Oh, no, not Edward ; don't say 
it's Edward ! ! 



84 ANN. 

Ann (copiing to c.) Why, don't you love him ? 
(Mock surprise.) 

Evangeline {hesitating). Er — no. {Very quickly 
correcting herself.) Yes, I do ! . . . no, I don't . . . 
well, perhaps I do a little ! {Suddenly realizing things 
— very strong.) No, I don't ! And I vjon't ! ! ! {Gets 
off sofa and tears off nightdress, which she leaves on stage 
down L.) Take this disgusting garment away ! 
Take it away, I say ! {Indignantly crosses to R.c. 
and begins twisting up her hair in a little knot on top 
of her head.) How could I do such a thing ? How 
could 3^ou ever have persuaded me to do anything so 
awful ? Do you realize that even my very own father 
has never seen me in such a costume ? What would 
people say ? What would the congregation say ? 
You abominable girl ! {Snatches wrap from Ann and 
goes off R.) 

{Exit Evangeline r.) 

{There is a pause after Evangeline's exit.) 

Ann. Well, I guess generosity does pay, after all- 
My poor nighty ! {Picks up nightdress and kisses it; 
then begins to put it on.) Nighty's all right, guess it 
depends who's inside it. {Laiighing.) Gee. she did 
look a sight 1 

{She puts on nightdress, standing on Chesterfield to see 
herself in mirror. Then walks across to R., admiring 
her train. Picks up book from table, and seats herself 

c.) 

"Hannah's Honeymoon" — his book! {Kisses book, 
then reads.) " Hannah understood then what she'd 
never realized before, that the delicate illusions of a 
successful engagement are the delicate illusions of a 
successful marriage." {Kisses the page.) Gee ! He 
does understand some things. 

{Bell.) 



ANN. 85 ■ 

(Ann runs to door and switches off light. Then goes to 
Chesterfield, pulls it round obliquely by fire and lies 

down.) 

(Edward is heard speaking to Billy. Ann jumps 
up.) 

Biily ! ! ! Ann, you're no coward ! 

(Runs to back of stage, picks iip drapery, goes back to 
sofa, puts drapery over her feet then falls back on the 
cushions and pretends to be asleep.) 

(Enter Billy, followed by Edward r. Edward 
thoughtfullv crosses to sofa. Billy turns up stage 

to window.) 

Billy (looking out of window). To think that joy 
might have come through this window. 

(Edw^\rd sees Ann. Is struck motionless, then he 
suddenly runs up stage silently to Billy and drags 
him- down to c.) 

(Seeing Ann on Chesterfield.). Great Scott ! 
Edward. 'SSh ! ! (Strong.) 

(Edward creeps on tip-toe to above settee. Billy 
follows on tip-toe to foot of settee.) 

Edward. She's sound asleep ! 

Billy. My maternal aunt, what a study ! 

Edward (verj; nervously). What on earth — how 
the 

Billy (lost in artistic fervour.) Well, of all the 
I'ucky beggars, I think you're the luckiest. 

Edward. Don't be an ass ! What am I — how 
on earth ? 

Billy (still looking at Ann). Isn't she a perfect 
little darling ? 

Edward. Billy, for Heaven's sake, what am I to 
do? 

Billy. Edward, I shall get riled with you in a 
minute. {Coming down c.) 



86 ANN. 

Edward {more nervously tjnan ever). ■ I wish the 
mater would come in. (Pause.) Dear old mater ! 

Billy (disgusted). You make me sick ! 

Edward. You can't deny it's awkv/ard ! 

Billy [indignantly) . Awkward ! What's awk- 
ward ? 

Edward. Why will she do such outrageous things ? 

Billy [helplessly). Oh, my good man, were all 
your ancestors Puritans ? 

Edward. Can't you suggest something ? 

Billy. I think you're the most ungrateful devil 
I ever met. Here's a perfectly gorgeous gift from 
Heaven falls through the v/indov/ from America 
and^ 

Edward [interrupting him). Confound it all, I 
know all that. But I'm not even engaged to her — 

yet. 

Billy [)iear door r.) . Do you want me-to hold yaur 
hand ? 

Edward [suddenly). I say, I wish 3/ou'd get out. 

Billy [encouragingly). Ah, thp^t's better; that's 
much better. 

(£".1'/^! Billy r., laughing.) 

(Edward switches up light and crosses to back of 
Chesterfield ; looks down at Ann.) 

Edward [after pause — sternly). You know you're 
not asleep. 

Ann [coolly). Well, you know best. [Opening her 
eyes to speak, then closing them again.) 

Edward. I suppose you grasped what Billy was 
thinking ! 

Ann [she starts getting up) . Oh ! Oh ! ! 

Edward. Don't you move ! Don't you dare to 
move ! [Comes round to r. end of Chesterfield.) 

Ann. Why ? [Sitting back in great alarm.) Why ? 

Edward. You know perfectly well you've be- 



ANN. 87 

haved outrageously. Coming here at this time in — 
Hke that — in that 

Ann {sitting up and facing him — hands folded). 
Please, I thought 

Edward {decisively). Look here, I'm going out to 
post a letter. If you're not gone when I come back, 
I shall — — ■ {He pauses, inspiration failing him.) 
I shall • 

Ann. Well,, what will you do ? 

Edward {helplessly). Don't you know that you're 
adorable ? 

Ann {with a fascinating smile). No ! Am I ? 

Edward {now quite hypnotized). That hair is • 

Ann. Is. it? 

Edward {desperately). Well, it's making me lose 
my head ! 

Ann {significantly). That's not all you're losing. 

Edward {suddenly). Look here, you know — -this 
is beyond a joke ! Beyond a joke 1 

Ann {'getting up suddenly). 'Sg, it isn't ! 

{She takes off ni(yhtdress to his blank amazement, and 
luriggling out of it, lets it fall to her feet.) 

It's just the joke, with no beyond. {Crosses to R.c. 
cheekily.) 

Edward {with set teeth, coming close to her c). Yes, 
you're right^ — it is the joke with no beyond. Please 
understand you've made a fool of me for the last time. 

{Music pp. through dialogue till curtain.) 

Ann {quietly— '2 liith frightened). Oh {Pause.) 

Oh. very weft, I'll go. 

(Ann goes up to window ■; turns, comes down to Edward 
and holds out her hand.) 

{Down- c.) Good-bye, Mr. Englishman. 

(Edvv^\rd stands with hack to her, and takes no notice. 
Ann goes up to window, looks round at Edward, 
then comes right dpivn again c.) 



88 ANN. 

(Half sohhin^.) Oh, you don't know what a brnte 
you are ! {She turns up to window again.) 
Edward {strong). Stop ! 

{He goes up to her, takes her by both hands and brings 
her down c.) 

(Stammering.) Don't go ! I can't let you go ! I — • 
I 

Ann (r.c). Well? 

Edward (strong passion). I'm av/ake— I'm alive — 
I'm in love ! 

Ann (very sweetly). Maybe ! 

Edward (taking her in his arms c). Ann ! (Then 
with strong passion.) Ann ! ! ! ! 

(Embrace.) 
(Music swells.) 

Curtain. 



End of Play. 



ANN. 



89 




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